


Spirits in the Woods

by 3hours, wolffan200



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Destiny, F/M, Gen, Willow has a cannibal moment, bloody bears, magical ring, some gore, spirit wolves, you'll hate us for the ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 55,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3hours/pseuds/3hours, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolffan200/pseuds/wolffan200
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How come Spike was so terrified of the bear in Pangs? And why was Buffy immediately apologetic to him for making it appear? This story will explain. Set in the summer between s3 and s4, Buffy, Willow and Giles get an unexpected visit from an old enemy and end up camping in the wilderness of Northern California.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In October 2012, Wolf went to visit 3hrs and stayed at her house for roughly ten days. During that time, we drank a lot of rum and tequila and co-wrote what was supposed to be a Halloween story. Because it got long and things like editing and betas took time, it wasn't posted until December. Also, as it doesn't actually take place _on_ Halloween, it's more of a generally spooky story anyway.

“Wow, college is kinda scary, right?” Willow said, a huge smile spread across her face.

“Yeah it really kinda is,” Buffy agreed. “It’s so surreal. I never saw college in my future since the whole _you are the Chosen One_ gig barged into my life.”

The girls walked up Revello Drive, still excited about their day.

“Well hey, Giles is totally behind you getting an education, and you’re still on the Hellmouth, so it’s not like you’re abandoning your sacred duty. Who says you can’t do both?”

Buffy grabbed the handle of the door, preparing to push it open as she answered.

“I did. Or at least I used to. I mean, I wanted to go but I never thought I’d have the chance. Still living on the Hellmouth isn’t exactly my dream, but there’s not much I can do about that. Having my best friend around makes up for it though.”

“Aww.” Willow was about to say something else when she was cut short by walking straight into Buffy, who had frozen on the doorstep.

“Spike?!” 

“There you are, Slayer,” Spike drawled from the couch, where he was… watching TV with her mom? “Was waiting for you.”

“Hi Honey, hi Willow,” Joyce said, smiling up at them. “How was the open day? Did you like the dorms?”

“Spike?!” Buffy repeated, temporarily unable to move past her surprise. Behind her, peeking over her shoulder, Willow let out a squeak.

“Well don’t just stand there, come in and join us. We’re watching Lawrence of Arabia.”

There was a half-full wine glass on the table in front of her mother, and Spike cradled a glass filled with a brown-ish liquid that probably wasn’t coke in one hand. Between them was an almost empty bowl of nacho chips.

“Bloody good movie,” Spike explained helpfully when Buffy just gaped at them.

Buffy turned her eyes to her mother who was sitting quite comfortably next to Spike, looking at them expectantly. Behind her, Willow’s mouth was partly open in shock, and she started tugging at the hem of Buffy’s shirt in a silent plea to do something.

“What is he doing in our house?” Buffy asked her mother, before turning quickly back to Spike. “What are you doing in my house?”

Spike stood up, put his glass down on the table next to Joyce’s and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Told you, I was waiting for you and watching a movie with your Mum.”

“That doesn’t explain anything.” Buffy folded her arms impatiently, wishing she’d brought a stake with her. “You showing up here out of the blue is getting old. Shouldn’t you be off torturing your crazy girlfriend or—wait, let me guess, she dumped you again.”

“Spike comes to your house a lot?” Willow questioned.

“Look, Slayer. What happens between me and Dru is none of your business, and maybe if you bothered to disinvite me, the Big Bad wouldn’t be able to walk into your home. That’s pretty lax security on your part, Chosen One. Or do you _want_ Joyce to get eaten?”

“That’s it. Willow, get me a stake.”

Spike glared at Buffy and Buffy glared right back while Willow nervously began to edge towards the stairs. Joyce stood up, putting a barrier between Spike and her daughter, and gave them all disapproving looks.

“That’s enough. There will be no fighting in my house. Buffy, you’re being rude to our guest.”

Buffy’s mouth fell open, and she squeaked in outrage, at a complete loss for words. Behind Joyce, Spike grinned.

“Mom!” Buffy was furious at the smug look on Spike’s face and thoroughly confused that her mother was taking his side. “He’s a vampire. An _evil_ vampire, _not_ a guest. He’s dangerous, and the last time he showed up he had Willow and Xander trapped in the factory. Cordelia was seriously injured because of the mess he caused.”

“Really?” Spike asked. “Someone got hurt? Sorry I missed it.”

“See?” Buffy gestured at Spike frantically. “Evil!”

“He came here looking for your help, Buffy. To me, that’s exactly what he’s wanted every time he’s been here. Help from you. We were having quite a nice time until you started threatening him. Can we please all just sit down and discuss things reasonably?”

“Mom!”

“’S all right, Joyce. Look, Slayer, your Mum’s telling the truth. I need help.”

“Well, I’m not going to argue with that,” Buffy said, dryly.

“Don’t get cute. Thing is, there’s something happening up in the woods north of Sacramento. A lake spirit is in trouble.”

“A lake spirit?” Willow asked, suddenly curious. “What kind?”

“A Manitou,” Spike replied.

“So some spirit wants help? If you’re involved, it’s clearly evil. So why should I care?”

“It’s not evil. It’s a spirit of nature, and it’s in trouble. Something’s killing the land and whatever it is, it’s dangerous.”

“So you’ve gone eco-friendly. Yeah, not buying it.”

Spike scowled at her. “I’m being serious.”

“Again, I ask why I should care? It’s not hurting anyone if it’s way off in the woods, and this entire story reeks of one of your hair-brained schemes. I’m not helping you.”

“You should care because it _is_ hurting people.”

“Who?”

“Campers,” Spike said, pointing a finger at her, looking pleased he had an answer. “Campers and… and hikers. Yeah, people have gone missing up there. You, as a protector of said people, have to care about that. Plus, it’s your thing to help. You and your little friends being such goodie-two-shoes.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and opened the door. Giving Spike a cheerful smile, she held the door wide-open and gestured outside.

“That’s nice, and it’s cute that you think I’d believe you.”

“Buffy,” Joyce said, looking annoyed.

“But Buffy, what if he’s telling the truth?” Willow chimed in. “What if there’s something out there really hurting people? I’ve read about the kind of nature spirits he’s talking about and they’re peaceful creatures. If one is in danger—”

“You guys, he’s making it up! Why would Spike ever do something good? He’s only doing this because he wants to get something out of it, and whatever it is, it’s better he doesn’t get it. Campers and hikers go missing all the time in the wilderness. It doesn’t prove anything. I’d appreciate it if you left now and never came back,” she added to Spike, gesturing at the open door again.

“You know what, fine! Be that way. Don’t come crying to me when the world ends because the Slayer is too selfish and lazy to get off her arse and do something about it.” Spike stormed past Buffy, black leather coat swirling around his legs as he spun to jab two fingers up in the air at her before continuing to stalk off down the driveway.

Buffy frowned and swung the door closed behind him. She turned around to be met with looks of disappointment and anxiety from her mother and Willow respectively. Buffy sighed and her shoulders slumped.

_____

 

“Giles!” Willow called out as she hammered the door with her fist, the other hand juggling her laptop, a stack of newspapers and a carry-out container with coffees.

“Yes, yes,” he replied, patient as always. “Where’s the fire?”

“In the woods,” she answered, and pushed past him to unload her burden on the table before she collapsed under its weight. The laptop hummed to life under her fingers.

“Pardon?”

“The woods that Spike was going on about,” she clarified. 

Buffy had of course immediately called her Watcher after Spike’s visit the night before to relay what he’d said. Giles had, to Buffy's immense relief, agreed with her that it likely was some kind of scheme, much to Willow’s disappointment.

Certain that there had to be more to the story, she’d gone home and begun her own private research. It had taken all night, hence the coffees. She took a long sip from one of the cups and held out a couple of newspapers for Giles to look at.

“Thomas Sheldon,” she said. “You remember. I tutored him in chemistry all last year?” Then, clearly pleased with herself, she added “He got a C, almost a C plus, but you know how strict Mrs. Finnigan is and he kinda messed up on the formula for the—”

“Yes, but as interesting as his grades are, would you mind explaining what he has to do with anything?”

“Oh, right,” she said, and took another sip. “He’s disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Giles echoed and, his interest now spurred, unfolded the first of the newspapers to look at the headlines. “Oh, he was one of those boys that got lost while camping a few weeks back?”

“Exactly. Only they aren’t lost.”

Willow began opening all the websites she’d bookmarked through the night. “Look,” she said, and pointed at the screen. “As far back as there are records of this sort of thing, people have gone missing in this one particular area, north-west of Lake Tahoe. Nobody lives up there, so it’s all hikers, campers and park rangers. Oh, and two years ago, a professor and a grad student from Berkley went there to get some water samples for a Hydrology project, and they never came back either.”

Giles accepted another, much older newspaper from her hands. “I do remember that incident,” he said, as he skimmed through the article detailing the ‘mysterious disappearance’.

“Yeah, there was a lot of writing about it at the time. The park rangers found their camp site, like they usually do, but there was no trace of them. Of course accidents do happen, and there are wild animals and all, but…”

“But not with such a large amount of people involved.”

“Something’s wrong,” Willow concluded, nodding. “I think Spike was telling the truth.”

Giles appeared as though he was warring with himself over the possibility that the notorious vampire might actually have been truthful.

“He talked about a lake spirit,” she went on. “A Manitou, needing help. I’ve looked it up and,” she pointed at another website dealing with Native American lore, “they’re ancient spirits that can communicate with the living.”

“You think it’s connected to the disappearances?”

“Spike said that something was killing the land. That sounds pretty evil to me. What if whatever it is, is also causing all those people to go missing?”

Giles removed his glasses for a predictable polish. “I just can’t wrap my head around Spike caring about something like this.”

Willow chewed on her lip. “Well, maybe he does have some kind of ulterior motive, I don’t know, but I still think we should at least investigate. Thomas was a good kid, and he was so excited when he told me he was going camping with his brother and some friends after graduation. He even got me a box of candy as thanks for helping him pass, Giles. None of the other guys I tutored did. Maybe he’s still alive.”

She was treated to A Look, but he refrained from commenting on her hopeful ramblings. “I’ll call Buffy.” He paused, lost in thought for a moment, then: “You wouldn’t happen to own a tent, would you?”

_______

 

“So, exactly why do you own a tent, Wills?” Buffy asked, eyeing the pile of bags and gear sitting next to her on the back seat, all stuff they couldn’t fit in the trunk.

“I used to be a girl scout. It was short lived,” Willow replied, craning her head around to look at Buffy. “Plus Xander, Jesse and I used to camp out in the backyard some nights. Xander liked to get away from being stuck inside the house with his parents, and even before finding out demons were real we knew it wasn’t a smart idea to go camping in the woods in Sunnydale.” She paused, then added as an afterthought, “Also it would have been scary.”

Buffy smiled at her friend while Willow faced forward again to study the map. Giles was driving, Willow was navigator and Buffy—well, Buffy was bored. Willow murmured something to Giles, pointing at the map, and Giles nodded, focused on his driving. Buffy slumped back in her seat and stared out the window.

They would make it up to the lake tonight which was both good and bad. On the one hand, no more motel rooms, on the other hand—no more motel rooms, just woods and a tent and—Spike.

Buffy frowned. She still couldn’t believe Giles and Willow had convinced her to travel all the way up here based on something Spike had told them. Okay, so there was evidence something weird could be going on. It still didn’t seem like a threat.

“Stupid sacred duty,” Buffy muttered.

“Pardon? Did you say something, Buffy?” Giles asked, looking at her in the review mirror.

“Umm, I wanted to know what this thing was?” Buffy lied, holding up something she saw peeking out of one of the bags next to her. She realized she honestly didn’t know what it was and her brow wrinkled in confusion as she held it from every angle possible in faint hopes that it would resemble something useful.

“Oh, it’s um, a sort of camping cooker. Do be careful with it. We will need to eat during this trip and I don’t fancy foraging in the woods, especially considering the reason we’re driving up there.”

Buffy wrinkled her nose but put the weird looking cooker thing back. She was curious about what else her companions had packed and started rifling through the bags. She came across a stack of books underneath two hurricane lanterns and held one up.

“Okay, camping cookers and lanterns I get but why books?”

“We might need them for research,” Willow piped up, twisting around in her seat again. “We have no idea what’s really going on out there since Spike wasn’t very specific on what’s hurting the Manitou.”

“Of course not,” Buffy said, putting the book back to continue her search.

“The point is, we don’t know what we’ll be facing or how we’re going to stop it. Hitting the books only works if you bring them along. Always be prepared,” Willow said, grinning.

“Yeah, well, looks like you guys are plenty prepared. All I brought were clothes, snacks and make up. Oh, and weapons, obviously.”

“Including Mr. Pointy?” Willow said with a knowing look.

“Co-operating with Spike works best if he has an incentive to behave.” Buffy took her stake out of her pocket and gave it a twirl.

“Plenty of trees and branches where we’re going, you know.”

“Yup, but this stake will always be within reach,” Buffy said, and put the stake back, smiling. 

“You know, this is the longest trip I’ve ever been on.”

“Really?” Giles asked. “You never went on holiday with your parents?”

“Nope. They were always too busy working. I went to Disneyland, but that doesn’t really count considering how close it was to home. Figures my first real camping trip would be because of Slayer business.”

“When all this is over, we should totally start doing the camping thing more often,” Willow said, her resolve face firmly in place. “It won’t exactly be an exciting trip away from Sunnydale but it would be fun. A backyard can be a whole new place when you’re in a tent.”

“I’ll bet. Maybe we should hold off on planning a camping trip until we see how this one pans out. Something tells me it might turn me off the experience.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while before Giles started to slow down, peering at something in the trees.

“What’s up, Giles?” Buffy asked.

“I think I see something — I do believe it may be a car.”

“Way out here?” Willow asked. “The map says the turn off we want is just up ahead. That must be a parking area. We’ll have to hike the rest of the way.”

“Let’s have a look, shall we?” Giles suggested, turning off onto the small laneway that circled back into the trees.

“Hike?” Buffy asked, glancing at the large packs next to her filled with incredibly heavy gear and supplies.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Willow said. “At least you have Slayer strength.”

They pulled into a small parking area and Giles stopped the car. They got out and walked back to where Giles thought he’d spotted another vehicle. Close up, it definitely resembled a car covered in branches and leaves. Moving aside some of the branches, the three of them stood back to get a better look at it.

“Oh yeah, this definitely belongs to Spike,” Buffy said, crossing her arms and assessing the beast in front of her.

“How can you tell?” Willow asked.

Buffy quirked an eyebrow and looked at the car again. It was old, the paint was black, and it was a monster. Plus the windows had been blacked out.

“I’m betting if you opened it, you’d see beaten up leather, lots of empty bottles and cigarette butts. It probably stinks so I wouldn’t recommend it,” she added.

“Yes, well.” Giles circled the car then glanced around at the surrounding woods. “It would seem Spike returned here after he came to visit you in Sunnydale. At least we know we’re in the right place. Let’s um, cover it back up and get our gear. It could be quite a hike to this lake.”

It took them a while to even get all their stuff out of the car. It took even longer for Willow and Giles to decide who should carry what and how to distribute the weight. Buffy was not impressed at being used as some form of pack mule just because she had super strength.

“This is really unfair,” Buffy griped as she was handed another bag. “You’re the ones who brought all the heavy stuff.”

“We merely brought items that we considered essential. I have to keep a hold of my compass in order to keep us on the right path. You’ll thank us when we get there and encounter — whatever it is we’re going to encounter,” Giles said, adjusting his glasses and attempting to get his bearings.

“There’s a trail right there,” Buffy argued, pointing to the beaten track leading into the woods. “We just have to follow it. This doesn’t bode well for your camping idea either,” she added to Willow, who was struggling to adjust the strap of her rucksack.

“C’mon Buffy,” Willow said, cheerily, finally getting the strap the right way round and tugging it up on her shoulder. “Smell that fresh air. Hear the sounds of nature. This is gonna be fun!”

_____

 

“Are we there yet?” 

“No, we’re not there yet, Buffy. Just like we weren’t there yet the other five times you asked,” Willow replied.

“But my feet hurt. I think I’ve got blisters. I’m getting seriously sweaty and gross, and somehow I don’t see showers in my future.” 

“Let’s make a rest stop once we reach the top of this hill,” Giles suggested from behind them.

“Sounds glorious. Can there be snacks involved?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Awesome,” Willow added. “I’m getting pretty hungry.”

They pressed on in silence until they had scaled the hill. It wasn’t really a very large hill, more a steady incline that just kept going and going, but as they were all rather inexperienced hikers, they were nevertheless pleased with themselves once they stood at the top. 

Ahead of them, the land flattened out and the dense woods they’d become accustomed to cleared and revealed a lake, tucked away in a small valley like an egg in a nest. Surrounding it were pleasant looking meadows dotted with wildflowers, the occasional outcropping of rocks and the forest in the background.

“Wow,” Willow said. 

Buffy lifted her sunglasses and took in the scenery as she got her breath back. “It’s really gorgeous up here, isn’t it?”

“Quite,” Giles agreed, then, shading his eyes with a hand, he gazed intently at something. “Is that a building over there?”

“Where?” Willow asked.

Putting her sunglasses back on, Buffy squinted in the direction Giles was pointing. “Looks abandoned, it’s all sunken on one side I think.”

“Let’s investigate.” And with that, Giles set off at a trot.

“But you said we’d have a break!” she whined.

“It’s not that far,” Willow said, always the diplomat. “And maybe this is the lake that Spike was talking about. If it is, then we’ve officially arrived!”

“Yay,” Buffy said with a sigh. She loved her best friend dearly, but her optimism could sometimes be a little tiresome, especially when you were in constant pain that got worse when you moved your feet. She definitely had blisters.

Happily, Willow was right, and it only took a few minutes to go around the lake and reach the other side where the mysterious building stood on the edge of the woods. It _was_ a building, and it _was_ abandoned. The entire left side of the roof had caved in and there was a dank, rotting smell coming from the rooms where the weather had been allowed free rein. The floorboards looked decidedly unsafe, so they only peered in through the broken windows at the mess of destroyed furniture and half-decomposed fabrics. The right side on the other hand, appeared relatively undamaged.

The front door had been knocked halfway off its hinges and was tilted horizontally in its frame, but it was just possible to sneak through. Buffy dropped her rucksack with a satisfied grunt and fished out a flashlight.

“You’re not going in there, are you?” Willow asked.

“Sure,” she replied. “Gotta make sure there’s no evil spirits in there, right?”

“Do be careful,” Giles warned, but he knew better than to try and stop her.

She easily dodged the door and found herself in a dim hallway. The room to the left must have been the living room going by the remains of the furniture in there. To the right was a small corridor. She carefully swept the flashlight around and counted three doors. A tattered calendar hung on one wall, proclaiming the year to be nineteen eighty-two. She couldn’t tell what the picture had been of; it was too moldy and faded. The floorboards seemed solid enough however, so she made her way over to the first door and pushed it open. 

A bedroom. There was a small window that had long since lost its glass; the rotting curtains swayed slightly with the breeze. She didn’t need the flashlight to see that the bed had collapsed on itself, sagging all the way down to the floor in the centre and would never again be slept in. There was a battered nightstand with a missing drawer, the remains of what was probably once a rug, and little else of note. She walked back to the front door and peered out.

“It’s safe enough in this one room. The window’s gone and it’s smelly, but we can probably store some of our stuff in here?” she suggested, gesturing for the others to come inside and check it out for themselves.

“That would be very handy,” Giles agreed, ducking under the door. “I’d brought rope and some tarpaulin to hoist our food supplies up in a tree, but a room would certainly be easier.”

“You were gonna hang our food in a tree?” Buffy asked, confused.

“Bears,” Willow explained. “They can smell the food. They come into the campsite and wreak havoc getting at it. You should always keep it out of reach from them.”

“Bears,” Buffy repeated. “There’s bears? Nobody told me there’d be bears.”

“And mountain lions.”

“Coyotes as well,” Giles added.

“Great, the entire lethal part of the zoo.”

“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about wolves,” Willow said. “They’ve been extinct in California for decades.”

Buffy let out a sigh. She had no problems dealing with demons and vampires, but animals were a different matter. She sincerely hoped she wouldn’t be put in a situation where she’d have to kill one. It was different, somehow.

Fishing out her cell phone from a pocket to check the time, she heaved another sigh. Reception up here would be spotty at best, and it made her feel cut off from the real world. It was getting late as well. Since the cabin was too unsafe, smelly and drafty to stay in they’d have to set up camp somewhere else before it got dark.

“Okay guys, if you move our stuff in here and find us a good spot for the tent, I’ll explore the rest of the place.”

“Sure.”

She got the flashlight out again. “Let’s see what’s behind door number two,” she said to herself as she pushed it open.

A bathroom. Well, that was anticlimactic. It looked pretty much intact, though very small, and the décor left much to be desired. The mirror had a large crack in it, and the toilet and sink were yellowed and dirty, but otherwise it was all usable. 

Or it would be, had there been any running water. She tested the tap, but it didn’t so much as groan in response. Next to the toilet was a disintegrated wicker basket with what had once been magazines. Pointing at the mess with her flashlight, she nudged them with a boot and was rewarded with a fresh waft of Eau du Rotten. Yuck.

“Hey, there’s a bathroom here,” she called out. “Smells worse than any I’ve ever been in though, and there’s no water.”

Willow poked her head around the door. “Oh cool, we could fetch water from the lake in a bucket and clean it out. We could use it to wash and brush our teeth and stuff.”

“Where’s your camping spirit gone, former girl scout Rosenberg?” Buffy joked. “Thought you were looking forward to the rugged life.”

Willow grinned. “When we camped in the backyard we’d always run inside to use the toilet and stuff.”

“That’s cheating.”

Despite the teasing, she was pleased. Trying to do your makeup with only a small pocket mirror available was not an ideal situation, and she’d been unclear on how one would go about maintaining proper hygiene while out in the woods. The sink, despite its current state, was a welcome sight.

“What’s behind that one?” Willow asked, nodding down the corridor towards the last door.

“About to find out.”

Buffy walked over and opened the door to a yawning chasm of darkness. A damp stairway that appeared to be rotting in places led down into the doom and gloom.

“Basement,” Buffy said, resigned. “Of course there’s a basement.”

“Wow, I don’t envy you having to go down there,” Willow commented.

“Gee, thanks,” Buffy said, holding her flashlight up and peering into the darkness. The beam of light did little to illuminate the area and, with a reluctant sigh, Buffy placed a tentative and still aching foot onto the first step, applying pressure to see if it would hold. Satisfied, she put her full weight on the board and winced at the loud groan that came from the long disused plank of wood.

“You’d better stay here where it’s safe. I’ll check around and make sure we have the all clear.”

“No objections to that plan,” Willow said, heading off to help Giles.

Buffy sighed again and turned back to the basement. “Okay, here we go.”

She pointed the flashlight straight down at each individual step, checking to make sure they were sturdy so she wouldn’t fall and break her neck. The wooden railing provided no help as it was rotted away in places and barely clung to the rusty nails holding it in place.

She had to skip one step with a large crack in it that appeared ready to collapse. Getting over that one to the next step safely proved to be a challenge in and of itself. She took a deep breath and instantly regretted it when she inhaled the damp, musky odor clinging to the cabin. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Buffy pushed away the urge to retreat and continued on. She was only halfway down judging from the still empty blackness in front of her.

Two steps further on her slow descent she heard a rustling sound and paused. There was unsettling silence for a few moments before the rustling came again. Buffy waited, wondering if it was just an animal or something else. Actually, she wasn’t sure which was worse after her little chat with Giles and Willow. A few seconds more of silence and there was a low squeaking noise followed by a skittering sound.

Buffy exhaled and gripped her flashlight a little tighter. Rats. It had to be. She tried to imagine them as lots of tiny Amys and forced herself to keep going. She was relieved when she could finally see the floor. Despite a few leaves and a whole lot of dirt, it looked sturdier than the one upstairs.

Having reached the bottom at last, Buffy swept the flashlight around the room. There wasn’t much to see down here; a few shelves that were empty but in fairly good condition, wooden chairs and a small table. It seemed like the basement had been used mostly for storage. She spotted a workbench against one wall, the green paint peeling off in flakes that were scattered across the floor. She noticed a smudge mark next to the flakes of paint and bent to investigate. It looked kind of like a footprint.

Wincing in pain from her blisters, Buffy warily turned to investigate the other side of the room. She paused when the beam of her flashlight landed on some indistinct white shape in the shadows. Cautiously, Buffy approached, pulling out her stake with her free hand, feeling instantly better with a weapon. As she got closer, she realized she was looking at a dead body. The skittering noise came from behind her again and she spun around quickly, stake raised and poised to attack.

There was nothing there. Relaxing a little and berating herself for her paranoia, Buffy turned back to the corpse that was—lying on a blanket? And wearing jeans. Black jeans. _Tight_ , black jeans. Buffy grimaced and shone the flashlight higher, to the vampire’s face. Spike.


	2. Chapter 2

He was sleeping like the dead, which was, she admitted, appropriate. He was shirtless and bore a number of bruises and claw marks across his chest. She frowned when she saw them, wondering what exactly he’d been doing to have picked up those. His boots, shirt and coat lay next to him in an uncharacteristically neat pile. He had one arm draped across his chest and the other behind his head, posing even in his sleep.

Buffy rolled her eyes and scowled at him. How anyone’s mere presence could grate on her so much, even when they were unconscious, baffled her. Now would be a perfect opportunity to stake him, too. After contemplating that scenario for all of five seconds, Buffy put her stake away and lowered the flashlight.

“Spike,” she said.

Nothing. Not a movement, not a groan; nothing.

“Spike,” she tried again, a little louder. “Spike!”

God, he really did sleep like the dead. After yelling at him a few more times, Buffy gave up and resorted to less polite means. The sight of his heavy black boots on the floor gave her an idea. She cast a glance at the still sleeping vamp and bent down.

The result was hilarious.

Spike shot straight up, the boot falling off his chest and to the floor with a heavy thump. He gasped loudly, looking scared out of his skin as he stared ahead with wide eyes, his mouth open in surprise. His hair was sticking up in places, mussed from sleep, and his hands gripped the blanket tightly. Buffy smirked but quickly hid the expression and replaced it with apathy when he finally focused on her.

Spike visibly relaxed and looked away, sighing with a pissed off expression on his face.

“Nightmare isn’t over yet, then. Don’t know whether it’s an improvement or not.”

“What?” she asked, before thinking better of it. She really didn't want to know what counted as nightmares to vampires. “Never mind. Do you sleep through anything? I was like yelling and nothing. If it was this easy to sneak up on you I would have staked you in your sleep a long time ago.”

“Bit knackered. Had a long night,” Spike drawled. He ran a hand through his hair and reached for his shirt. “Unlike some people, I’ve been working on helping this bloody Manitou for the past week.”

“Yeah well, we’re here now, so you can quit your complaining and spill. What’s going on?”

“Who’s we?” Spike pulled his shirt on over his head and grabbed his boots next.

“Me, Giles, and Willow. Now answer the question.”

“I told you what was going on. The lake spirit’s in trouble.”

“No, you gave me vague not-answers. A lake spirit needs help. Explain. Why, from what, and what’s it got to do with you?”

Spike tugged on one boot and had to lean far back to get the one Buffy’d thrown at him.

“I told you the why. The land is dying and whatever’s causing it’s headed this way. From what—well, that’s a mystery to me too. Weird shit’s been happening here, Slayer. Near as I can figure it they’re some kind of malevolent spirits that can manifest in corporeal form.” He shook his head with a bitter smile. “When it suits _them_ at least.”

“Okay, so we need to help protect a spirit from other spirits. What about you? What are you getting out of this?”

“Right now not a bleedin’ thing except for hardship, pain, and torment. Look, I have my reasons, and I’m not in a very sharing mood right now.”

“Well then, I’m not in a very charitable mood,” Buffy retorted. “I guess I should just leave you here to sort things out yourself then.”

She turned to go and heard Spike stand up behind her and pick up his coat.

“Like you’d leave now after going to all the trouble of coming up here. No way, Slayer. We both know you didn’t take my word for it so you’re obviously here because you’ve looked into what’s going on and deemed it worth your while. You’re here to help and so am I. That places us on the same side, if only temporarily.” He threw her an irritated glance. “Maybe I’ll tell you my reasons, maybe not. Depends on my mood, and right now, I’m not talking.”

Buffy glared at him, frustrated and annoyed that he was right. There was no way she was leaving now they were here, and if Spike really was going to help, it might be useful to have another fighter around. Something had caused those marks on him, after all. Upstairs, footsteps paced back and forth and dust rained down from the ceiling above them.

“Best get back to your mates then. It won’t be long before I can introduce you to all my new pals.”

Buffy gave him a sideways look before turning to head back upstairs, Spike following. Willow was waiting at the top of the stairs when Buffy reappeared and smiled in relief at seeing her safe and sound.

“You find anything down there?”

“A dead guy,” Buffy replied casually.

Willow’s eyes widened, and she took a step back in shock. Buffy stood aside before Willow could voice any further questions, revealing Spike standing there in the basement doorway. Willow’s tensed shoulders quickly relaxed, and she let out a relieved breath when she saw who it was.

“Oh.”

“Yup,” Buffy said.

“Red,” Spike greeted, rooting through his pockets for his cigarettes.

“Spike,” Willow replied. There was a long pause as Spike located his lighter, lit the cigarette and took a long drag, expelling the steady stream of blue smoke through his nostrils. Willow waved the smoke cloud away, wrinkling her nose, but smiled in an attempt to be friendly.

“So, um, how’ve you been?”

“Spent the last few days as chew toy for some bloody annoying spirits, but thanks for asking,” he said with a smirk. “What changed your mind and brought the cavalry up here, then? You find out something useful?”

“People go missing here,” Willow replied, realizing as she spoke how not-useful it was. “This guy I know… he and his friends disappeared recently. Here, in these woods, I mean.”

“Right,” he drawled. “Sure helps. Dunno what I’d do without you lot.”

“You’re the one that asked for our help, asshole,” Buffy said, resisting the urge to reach for her stake - which was always at hand whenever she was near him. Instead, she pulled Willow outside with her. Although the skies were rapidly darkening, the sun hadn’t quite set yet and Spike wouldn’t be able to follow them.

“We’re gonna help Giles with the tent. Stay out of our stuff or I’ll make sure _your_ dust is added to what’s already on the floor,” she called over her shoulder.

“He sure is grumpy,” Willow muttered as they walked over to the campsite Giles had selected. He had the bright blue canvas of the tent spread out like a picnic blanket which made it easy to spot, even from a distance. “Did he just wake up or something?”

“Kinda.” Buffy skipped over the manner in which she’d woken him. “But he’s always like that.”

“I’ve only really spoken to him once, when he was drunk and lovesick and holding a broken bottle to my face. This is a vast improvement.”

“Don’t remind me, I already want to stake him just for being annoying.”

This made Willow giggle, which in turn caused Giles to look up from inspecting a pile of tent pegs. “Oh, there you are. Find anything interesting?”

“Found Spike,” she replied. “Not sure if I’d classify him as ‘interesting’. He’s set up shop in the basement of the cabin. Guess he feels at home with the other vermin down there.”

“Yes, well.” Giles stood and surveyed the carefully laid-out parts for the tent with growing despair. “It’s nevertheless good that he’s here.”

“It is?” Buffy asked, taken aback.

“Certainly. He can show us where he met the lake spirit and explain what on earth brought him up here in the first place, which I’m quite curious about.” He put his hands into the pockets of his tweed jacket and looked down at the parts again. “Willow? How do you assemble this?”

“Uh, it was mostly Xander and Jesse that did the setting up part.”

“Spike doesn’t know how to set up a tent, by any chance?”

“I am so not asking him for help,” Buffy said, holding up her hands. “Besides, aren’t you two Mister Watcher-retreat guy and Miss ex-Girl Scout? You’ll figure it out, I’m sure.”

“What about you, Buffy?” Willow said, starting to look just as unhappy as Giles.

She bent and picked up a small hand-axe. “Gonna gather some firewood.” She beamed at them and added “Have fun!” for good measure. They may have been able to drag her out to no-man’s land with their insistence that it was her duty but she drew the line at tent building activities. 

Two minutes later she already regretted her impromptu firewood expedition as at least one of the blisters on her heel burst. 

______

 

When night finally fell, Spike almost jumped out of the cabin. He’d spent the last half-hour pacing back and forth with nothing to do, getting more and more agitated. Not even imagining various ways to finally bag Buffy as his third slayer had been able to appease him. 

The last few days had been a bust. In fact, the entire trip to this God forsaken corner of the world had been a bust, right from the start. Not for the first time, he cursed the book that had sent him on this wild goose chase.

Whenever Spike found himself in one city for an extended period of time, he’d always end up locating a library or two and nicking whatever books looked interesting. There was little for a vampire to do during the daytime other than sleep (especially before the television was invented), and he’d always been the type that didn’t need much sleep to begin with. Reading, on the other hand, was something he had always loved, ever since he was a little boy.

This particular book had been in a library in Brasilia until he’d come by and snuck it into the pocket of his duster one evening, along with a handful of others. It had happened shortly after he’d returned from Sunnydale with the intent of seducing Dru into loving him again. After several weeks of getting steadily more frustrated as she carried on alternately cursing his existence and cheating on him, he’d reached over and picked it up to read. And oh, what an interesting read it had been.

It was a catalogue of various magical objects, their history and uses, and where they could be found. Or, at least, where they were _believed_ to be found. He’d dismissed most of them as either made-up or long-since destroyed, but then he had reached the chapter concerning magical rings. Specifically the Piniarneq, the Ring of Destiny. At first glance it hadn’t seemed all that interesting, but then he got to the part where it talked about “unveiling the truth” and “showing the true path”.

The gist of it was that when you put this particular ring on your finger it showed you, for lack of a better word, your destiny. The plan was to find the bloody thing and give it to Dru as a gift, hoping that when she put it on and looked at him, she’d realize that they were meant to be – that _he_ was her destiny, not her soddin’ “Daddy”.

A bit far-fetched perhaps, but if all else failed he’d have brought her a pretty ring, regardless of magical abilities. And Dru liked her jewelery. Sure, it hadn’t worked before when he’d showered her in gold, silver, and gemstones, but he wasn’t the type of bloke to give up easily. 

Taking a long drag from the cigarette, he looked around for the Slayer’s band of happy heroes. Ah, there they were. Minus the Slayer herself, it looked like. He walked towards them, careful to not make any noise. Maybe he could listen in on their conversation and find out if they actually knew anything at all about what the hell was going on up here.

When he got close, he slinked into the woods and moved quietly from tree to tree, taking care to keep his cigarette in a cupped hand to hide the glow. He could hear soft murmurs of conversation, then snippets of sentences and finally, everything. He chose a fat tree and leaned against it, listening.

“No, try attaching it to the rod over there,” Giles instructed in a voice that was more than a little exasperated. 

“Uh, I can’t reach,” Willow replied, struggling with something. He could hear rustling of fabric and then a loud _twoing!_ sound, as if a bent tent rod had suddenly snapped straight again.

There was a muffled curse. He struggled not to laugh.

Giles sighed. “Let’s try it again. It has to connect with that one, I don’t see any other way that… Good Lord.”

“What’s wrong?”

“We’ve got it all backwards, it’s not supposed to go across the middle at all.” There was a pause. “I think.”

“Are you sure?” Willow asked, her voice revealing absolutely no confidence in the Watcher at all. Spike smirked. Morons.

“Oh bugger this, I need a drink.”

“I don’t think it’ll get easier if you’re drunk…”

“Perhaps not, but my sanity calls for it, I’m afraid.”

“Okay. Maybe Buffy can help us when she’s back with the firewood.”

Silence for a while. It dragged on long enough for Spike to get bored and consider showing himself, when they began talking again. The Watcher’s voice had lost the edge of irritability, which was probably connected to the alluring scent of aged whiskey that filled the air. 

“I’m surprised Oz didn’t want to come with you, knowing that Spike was involved.”

“Um, I kinda didn’t tell him.”

“Oh dear, is something the matter?”

“No, just… he’s away on tour, with the band. We talk on the phone and stuff, but he’d just worry and I don’t like worrying him unnecessarily.” Willow paused, and Spike could imagine the look the Watcher must be giving her. And rightly so! William the Bloody definitely belonged in the necessary-to-worry-about category. “I know, I know, but Buffy’s here and besides, he wanted us to help. He’s not gonna try and kill us if he wants our help, right?”

“Didn’t he threaten to kill you when he wanted you to do that spell for him?” Giles reminded her.

“Well, yeah, but… I don’t know.” Willow’s voice wavered and became small before petering out completely.

Shifting behind his tree, Spike frowned. 

“It was weird,” Willow finally said after a couple of minutes had passed. “When Buffy and I found him with Mrs. Summers, he was all Friendly Guy, you know?”

“I daresay I do not, no.”

“He was all relaxed and nice, until Buffy pissed him off and he left.”

“And?”

“I don’t know,” she repeated. “I’m just not as scared of him as I used to be. Yeah, of course he’s still a big bad evil vampire with the grrr and the wanting to drink your blood and all, but he’s that _and_ just a regular guy watching movies, too. He’s got layers. And I didn’t know vampires had layers? You never told us there could be more to them, you said the bloodlust is the only thing that drives them, but that doesn’t fit with movie nights and asking for help with Manitous.” She paused only briefly for breath. “It’s like my world, or at least the part of it concerning vampires, has turned upside down. I keep thinking of Jesse…”

“Willow,” Giles began, but Spike’d had enough. Hearing the little witch try to psychoanalyze him was not how he’d pictured spending his morning.

“Well lookie here,” he drawled as he stepped out from the tree. “It’s Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum. I’m impressed with your efforts so far.” He made a sweeping gesture at the piles of sleeping bags, gear, and the mess they’d made of what was supposed to be a tent. 

“Spike,” Giles greeted in clipped tones. “Wish I could say it was a pleasure, but…”

He snorted. “Oh pipe down, old man. I saved your life last time we met. Don’t expect any thanks but the least you could do is leave out the sarcasm.”

Giles sputtered and was about to respond when Willow interjected. “Spike! Hi! Good to see you, uh, I mean, um, we were just talking about you.”

“Is that so?” He stared at her until her eyes stopped darting around and helplessly met his. “I hope it was all bad.”

“Uh.”

“Quite so. Have you found out anything more since you visited Buffy?”

“Yeah, the buggers in the woods are clever,” he said, but didn’t elaborate. “At a bit of a standstill right now. It’s impossible to kill them.”

“How so?”

“They cheat. Turn incorporeal.” He sneered and threw his nearly finished cigarette over his shoulder.

Willow let out a squeal and ran over to where it landed, frantically stomping at the ground. “You can’t do that!” she admonished as she came back to them.

“I can’t?”

“You’ll start a forest fire!”

“Oh,” he replied, grinning. “Sweet of you to remember that I’m flammable, pet.”

A strange look passed over Willows face before she cleared her throat. “The Manitou wanted you to help heal the land, not burn it down.”

“Right, good point.” 

“And of course, you do want to help the Manitou,” Giles added, scratching at his temple absently and giving Spike a wary glance. “Any particular reason why?”

Spike was prepared to tell the old man to mind his own sodding business but realized from the looks he and the witch girl were giving him that sooner or later he’d have to tell them something (and preferably something they’d actually believe) if he wanted their help. Of course he didn’t have to explain himself _right away_.

“You two are bloody hopeless at that,” Spike said, derailing the conversation and nodding at the mess of canvas and poles on the ground. “Honestly, you’d think you’d have some sort of survival skills.”

“And you could do better, I take it?” Giles asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well yeah,” Spike said and brushed past the Watcher to stride over to the tent. “It’s pretty straight forward when you know what you’re doing. Grab a hold of that end,” he said to Giles who, somewhat bewildered, obliged.

“And how exactly did you gain such knowledge? I don’t imagine there’s much cause for vampires to use tents.”

“Been to a few festivals in my time. Seen lots of people set them up, helped a few out, you know, earned their trust. Good music, good company, good food, with a little extra kick now and then. When you’re immortal, you find yourself doing lots of stuff to keep from getting bored.”

“You helped people pitch tents, then ate them?” Willow asked, backing away a step.

Spike’s only reply was a smirk, glad to be reminding them he was someone to be taken seriously; a threat. It didn’t take long to get the tent up. Spike left the pair to sort out the rest of their stuff themselves. He was done being helpful. It was getting late. Things would start acting up soon.

Spike lit another cigarette and listened to the sound of Red and the Watcher muttering behind him. He heard something approaching from the woods and stiffened. Footsteps. They didn’t sound like normal footsteps however. The creature was... limping? Dragging its feet at least. Tense moments passed with all senses on alert until what was making the noise came close enough to identify and Spike relaxed. 

The Slayer was back.

______

 

Buffy came trudging out of the trees with a bundle of firewood and the axe. She winced with every step and grumbled about needing a good soak for her aching feet that would never be the same again after this. She spotted the gang by the now pitched tent and walked over, dumping the stack of firewood down in a heap next to them.

“There you go. You guys can get the campfire going. I need to sit down and never get up.”

“Ah, there you are Slayer. Just in time for some reconnaissance work,” Spike said, as he stepped into her line of vision.

“Huh?” Buffy asked, stupefied.

“You know, scout the area, get a handle on what’s going on around here.”

“Oh you have got to be kidding. I’m exhausted, and my feet are killing me. You want to take a walk in the woods be my guest.”

“Hey,” he said, looking irate. “You’re here on business, Slayer, no slacking off. It’s your own damn fault your feet hurt.” He pointed to her boots. “If you were wearing proper hiking boots you’d be fine.”

Buffy glanced at her unsuitable footwear. Hiking boots did not exist in her wardrobe and these boots were the best she had. She was badly in need of replacement trainers - Slayer work-outs having taken their toll - so she hadn’t brought anything as spares either.

“They work just fine for Slaying. How was I supposed to know nature would trump fighting monsters?”

“Yeah, real genius you are.”

“If it didn’t mean taking a step forward I’d be hitting you right now,” Buffy dropped to the ground and stretched her legs out in front of her, relieved to be off her feet at last. Spike wasn’t impressed, but Buffy couldn’t care less right now. He’d been here for days and hadn’t accomplished anything. What could one more night hurt?

She watched him stalk off and lean against a tree, where he kicked at the ground and muttered to himself. Giles and Willow had begun working on the campfire, having watched the display.

“Maybe you should do a quick search, Buffy? To make sure there’s nothing in the immediate vicinity that could pose a threat?” Giles suggested after a minute.

“I just came from the woods Giles. There was nothing there. We’re fine.”

“Still,” he added, letting the sentence hang.

Buffy groaned and leaned back on her elbows. “Fine. I’ll do a quick sweep in a little while okay? Just give me a chance to rest first.”

Giles nodded and went back to working on the fire. Buffy could see Spike grinning from the shadow of his tree and quickly turned away. Jerk. First her mom and now Giles. Was Willow going to take his side next? It was only then, sitting quietly at their campsite and stewing over Spike getting his way, that Buffy began to notice how dark it had become—and how quiet.

Night had fallen, and it had changed the peaceful clearing by the lake into something else entirely. The calm water that had reflected the sunlight earlier now resembled black glass, it was so still and dark. The moon’s white reflection was the only thing marring the perfect surface. It looked like a deep pit you could fall into, disappearing forever. Mist formed on the surface of the water and steadily made its way across the grass like an advancing army.

The trees seemed taller than they had earlier, the thick, dark branches stretching up to the night sky like twisting, gnarled hands. The shadows cast by the trees were reaching out over the grass, clawing their way towards the campsite. Above, the full moon gave extra light to see with, but was also an ominous sign. Creepy crawlies always seemed to be more agitated when the moon was full. Buffy sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs as she surveyed the scene. The place was looking a lot less pleasant than she remembered.

Turning her head, she caught sight of the cabin crouched before the trees. Faint moonlight reflected off the cracked and broken windows, shining pinpricks of light amidst the darkness. The broken doorway resembled a half open mouth that seemed to dare anyone to enter the hidden interior. The sagging roof gave the structure a warped appearance like a wounded animal… or worse, a predator lying in wait for unsuspecting prey.

Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted. Buffy jumped and Willow yelped. The noise made her jolt sideways to see that Willow had come to sit next to her without Buffy even noticing. The two girls gave each other startled looks before sheepishly smiling at each other.

“Just an owl,” Giles said, reassuringly, though he pushed his glasses up further on his nose and cast his gaze around their surroundings.

“That’s just brilliant, that is.” Spike walked over to join them by the now lit fire. “Some back-up you lot are going to be, scared of a little owl.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Buffy objected. At Spike’s skeptical look her back stiffened, and she gave him a determined look. “I wasn’t. I was just—startled. It’s weird not having cars around as background noise.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely a lot quieter out here—or it would be, without those spirits acting up.”

“Okay, see now you _really_ have to spill about those. Info would be good. What spirits are we talking about, and you are finally going to give us some proper answers,” Buffy said, making sure he knew she meant it by the tone of her voice.

Spike stared at her for a moment, glancing at the others before his shoulders slumped and he sat down next to Giles in front of the fire.

“All right. It’s like this. You were right, I am after something.”

“I knew it!” Buffy exclaimed.

“Yeah yeah, Spike’s up to something, big shocker. Look, there’s this treasure hidden in the lake and I want it.”

“What kind of treasure?” Willow asked.

“A ring. A very special ring,” he said. “It’s called the Piniarneq, the Ring of Destiny. It allows the bearer of it to see the truth of things. It was originally a sacred stone owned by the Inuits and used by their angakkuqs, or shamans. This demon warlock stole it from them and forged the stone into a ring for convenience.”

“Inuits?” Buffy asked.

“The indigenous people of the Arctic,” Giles supplied.

“It ended up here,” Spike continued. “Possibly as a token to the Manitou, or the owner at the time wanted to hide or protect it and threw it in the lake. People have died for that ring, either seeking it out or because they had it and somebody else wanted it. It’s a much desired object—or it was before it got tossed in there,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the lake.

“How did you find out about this ring?” Giles asked, curious.

“And why do you want it?” Buffy added. “How would that benefit you, besides maybe telling you to get some better fashion sense?”

“Ha,” he snorted in her direction, before turning to Giles. “Came across it in a book, got curious, did some research and found out the last known location. Here.”

“What book would that have been?” Giles pressed.

“Quinque Daemonum Veneficus.”

The name meant nothing to Buffy, but from the way Giles lit up and then frowned in confusion, it clearly did to him. “You read Latin?”

Spike looked startled for a second, before shaking his head. “No, uh, had it translated.”

“Ah, of course.”

“Anyway, the book said that the last known demon to have had the ring died in the area now called Sierra Nevada. It also said that local Native American legends mentioned the incident and that the tribe had taken the corpse and buried it far outside their territory, as they considered it to be unclean.”

Willow nodded. “They didn’t approve of demon magic, only the earth mother’s own magic was okay with them.”

“Right,” Spike agreed. “But they took the ring off him, so they obviously weren’t above stealing from corpses.”

Willow looked so affronted on the tribe’s behalf Buffy had to hide a smile.

“They probably just wanted to keep it safe.”

“Yeah, well, for some reason they decided on this lake. I thought it’d be a simple matter of diving down and scouring the bottom for it, maybe do a little old fashioned panning like in the gold rush days. But when I come all the way out here, the Manitou says I’m not worthy and I’ve got to prove myself first by taking care of her little problem.”

“Wait,” Buffy said slowly, wrinkling her brow and sending him a dangerous look. “You dragged me all the way out here to do your dirty work for you? So you can get your stupid ring?”

Both Willow and Giles shrank back, taking her tone of voice as the warning signal it was. Spike, on the other hand, dismissed it with a shrug.

“’Course not. I came up here fully prepared to have to work for it. Was here for several days before I went to you.”

“So what’s the problem? Why do you need me?” she asked, not convinced that this wasn’t all a sham.

“I can’t hurt them. There’s spirits all over the place here, the woods are full of ‘em, and they attack on sight. Soon as you try to attack them back, though, they turn incorporeal on you. It’s bloody frustrating.”

“Inco-what?”

“It means your hand goes straight through them, like a ghost,” Willow helpfully explained.

“Can’t bite them, can’t use weapons on them,” Spike said. “I spent days trying to find a way around it, that’s how I found out that they were attacking any humans that got close. Figured it fit your job description.”

“So you _do_ want me to do your dirty work,” she said and looked around for the little axe. 

“Look, Slayer,” he said and the way he said ‘Slayer’ was… different. Normally Spike spoke in a cocky, confident voice that never wavered, all guts and swagger and provocation. Now, there was a weariness to it, and she remembered the cuts and bruises she’d seen littering his body. “You just figure out a way for me to actually hurt them and I’ll gladly fight the lot while you sit on your dainty little arse and watch. I’ll even let you take the credit so you can get another gold star on your report card. All I want is the ring.”

“For what purpose?” Giles asked sharply.

“That’s my business,” Spike replied, his voice back to normal. “You don’t need to know.”

“Oh, but I do,” Buffy insisted. “I’m not going to let you have it if you’ve got some kind of nefarious plan.”

“Like what? It’s a ring that shows your destiny, how is that nefarious in any way?”

“I don’t know, maybe somebody else wants it and you’re gonna trade it with them for something that _is_ dangerous.”

Spike sighed and ran a hand over his face. 

“Or maybe you’re gonna use it to predict the future and change stuff to suit your evil needs,” she went on.

“It doesn’t work that way, it’s not a fortune teller prop—”

“Or maybe you’re—”

“It’s for Dru,” he said, cutting her off.

“Huh?”

“The ring. It’s for Dru.”


	3. Chapter 3

This little revelation had Buffy momentarily silenced. He was _still_ following the lunatic vampire around like a puppy? When was he going to learn?

“Okay, so _she_ plans to—”

“She doesn’t know about it.”

“Really.”

“Really,” he echoed. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“Why the Ring of Destiny and not some, I dunno, Dagger of Evil or something? Wouldn’t that impress her more?”

This made him laugh. “What does a vampire need a dagger for, Slayer?” He shifted into game face and bared his fangs, causing Willow to scuttle closer to Buffy with an ‘eep’. “We don’t need weapons.”

She’d reached for Mr. Pointy on pure instinct, even though he didn’t move at all from his spot. She lifted her hand anyway, threatening. 

“Stop it.”

He shrugged again, and the ridges smoothed out, blue eyes returning. “Just proving my point. It’s none of your business anyway.”

She was about to press him further when something held her back. She remembered his desperate efforts to try and get Drusilla back the year before, and his ridiculous but somehow not at all surprising plan to win her over by way of torture. She understood suddenly that it most likely hadn’t worked, and that Spike was _still_ trying to win her affections, only with yet another new tactic. 

For a moment she felt bad for him, then it passed. In her opinion it was way past the point where he ought to have moved on, but a part of her couldn’t help but admire his tenacity and determination. If only Angel had thought their relationship was worth fighting for… no, let’s not go there.

“Fine,” she said sharply and nearly startled at her own voice. “But you’ll let us have a look at it before you leave, so we can make sure it does what it says on the tin and nothing more.”

“Deal,” he agreed. “Patrol the vicinity now?”

“Ugh,” she grunted, about to try and wheedle out of it, when a chilling howl sounded somewhere to their right. It was far away, but somehow not nearly far enough.

She turned to Willow. “I thought you said wolves were extinct!”

“Uh,” Willow began, but she was cut off by another mournful howl. It sounded almost surreal, and as the howling went on, she realized why. It had a haunting undertone to it, a wavering that shouldn’t be there.

“That doesn’t sound like a real wolf,” she said, without even fully knowing what she meant.

“It isn’t,” Spike replied. “That bastard has been keeping me company every night since I got here. Seen ‘im too. It’s one of the spirits.”

“A wolf Manitou?” Willow asked, and her face got a hopeful look to it.

“Nah, he’s not friendly. Took a chomp out of my arm on my first day.” When she raised a questioning eyebrow at him, he shook his head. “All healed now.”

Yet the wounds he’d sported were fresh. Clearly there were more of these spirits out there than just the wolf. The howling stopped abruptly. Somehow, the quiet that followed was worse. As long as they could hear it, they knew it was far from their camp. Silence could mean it was moving closer.

“Do you think it’ll attack?” Buffy asked, looking around again for the axe. Giles reached into his rucksack and hauled out a steel shortsword that he’d seen fit to bring for some reason and handed it to her. “Thanks.”

“It might.”

“Let’s go,” she said and stood, instantly regretting it. Fresh pain shot through her feet and she only barely managed not to wince. “We’ll do a half-circle around the camp, through the woods. You guys,” she said, and turned to Giles and Willow, “get out those hurricane lanterns you brought and see if you can light up the open area so nothing can sneak up on you. If you see anything, scream.”

They both nodded, solemn faced.

_______

 

After they’d left the small comfort afforded by the camp and the fire, Buffy realized how cold it had become and resisted an urge to shiver. She was thankful for her jacket but wished more than ever that she could just curl up in her sleeping bag and rest instead of parading around the forest with Spike as her companion.

She cast a sideways glance at him. He walked purposefully, a somewhat serious look on his face that she found strange. He was so weird to be going to all this trouble for a stupid piece of jewelery, especially one which, as far as he knew when he’d set out on this journey, was just a myth. Spike noticed her looking at him and tilted his head. She looked away quickly, and he huffed in irritation.

“What now?”

“Nothing.”

Spike shook his head and they walked on, into the gloom and doom of the forest. Buffy found it hard to imagine she’d been in here collecting firewood only a short time ago. Everything seemed so different and sinister now. She shone her flashlight at the ground, careful to avoid fallen branches, roots or rocks that could cause her to stumble. The light from the moon wasn’t nearly as good inside the forest, hampered as it was by all the trees. She heard a low, crunching sound next to her and knew Spike would now be sporting the distinctive bumps and ridges of a vampire.

When they were a reasonable distance into the woods, Buffy turned to lead them in a half circle that would take them around the campsite and the cabin. The trails in the area were getting narrower, fewer and farther between from lack of use. A few animal tracks weaved in and out of the trees, but they saw no sign of life.

“How far do you usually go when you come out here?” Buffy asked.

“Depends.”

“On what?” she pressed, ducking to avoid a half broken branch of a tree hanging across her path.

“On how far those spirit buggers let me get.” Spike ducked under the branch after her and gave the woods further in a cautious glance.

“You’ve been attacked a lot then, I take it.”

“You have no idea,” he said, turning to glance behind him this time.

They continued on until an owl hooted again. The unexpected noise pulled Buffy up short and caused Spike to bump into her.

“Watch it, Slayer. Not jumping out of your skin over owls again, are you?”

“No.” She flipped her hair and walked on. A twig snapped somewhere to their right and they both spun towards the sound. Buffy held her flashlight up with her sword half-raised.

“What was that?” she asked, nervously.

“Dunno,” Spike said. His fingers twitched. “A rabbit maybe? Hedgehog?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be able to smell them?”

Spike frowned and looked down at her. “Do you have any idea how many scent trails from animals there are out here? Either way, it’s not one of the spirits.”

“How can you tell?”

Spike shrugged one shoulder and gave the trees around them another distrustful glance. “They’re usually bigger.” He brushed past Buffy, leading the way forward. “C’mon, Princess, let’s not dawdle. We have a lot of ground to cover with those sore feet of yours.”

Buffy frowned in puzzlement at Spike’s retreating back. He was acting strangely twitchy, almost as if he was nervous. It was understandable, she supposed, since Spike had clearly had a rough time out here fighting these things, but she’d never known him to be scared of anything. He always barreled straight into danger as though it was a challenge or a game.

“Hey wait!” she yelled, realizing he wasn’t slowing down and she’d soon lose sight of him out here. “Spike!”

She stumbled forward awkwardly, her feet aching, and tried hard to catch up across the uneven ground. She was so focused on where she was stepping she almost walked right into Spike’s chest and jumped when his black clad form materialized in front of her.

“Afraid you’re gonna get lost, pet?” he said with a fanged smirk that Buffy wanted desperately to wipe off his face with her fist. She would have, too, if both her hands weren’t full.

“Shut up. We shouldn’t split up. Splitting up in the woods always ends badly. Haven’t you ever watched a horror movie? I just got here, I don’t know the place like you do yet.”

“Relax, Slayer, we’re not that far in. You just have to turn towards camp and walk in a straight line. Shouldn’t be too hard to manage, even for you.”

Buffy raised the sword threateningly. “Just keep moving before I end up using this on you.”

Spike rolled his eyes and turned again. This time Buffy followed close behind, glaring at the leather coat in front of her. Stupid vampire.

_______

 

Ten minutes later, Buffy’d had enough.

“Okay, there’s clearly nothing out here so why don’t we just head back to camp?”

“Giving up already, Slayer?”

“My feet are about to fall off. If I’m going to be of any use to anyone later I need to go lie down and rest for a while so my Slayer healing kicks in. Plus I’m getting hungry.”

“You and your bloody feet,” Spike muttered, but he did stop. Unfortunately he went on to stare at her feet with his unsettling, yellow, predator eyes. “Be easier for you to just lop ‘em off with that sword. Maybe a tasty Slayer would appease the spirits?” He perked and reached out for her sword. “Give it here, I’ll help.”

“Back off,” she warned, and took a step back.

“Relax, I was kidding. Not like you’re of any use to me dead, Summers.” Upon seeing that she was less than amused, he heaved a put-upon sigh. “All right, fine. We may as well go back. This way,” he said, changing course.

Buffy smiled happily behind his back at getting her way but it was quickly replaced with a grimace when she started walking again. Her feet were throbbing, and she realized Spike’s ‘bloody feet’ comment was actually more accurate than he’d meant it to be.

“Ugh, I hate nature,” she said. “Ow! This is torture.”

Ahead of her, Spike snickered.

“Hey! It’s so not funny. How would you like it if someone forced you to be a pack mule, hiking uphill with all the heavy crap they brought along, sent you off to collect firewood and then had you patrol the strange, pitch black, unnaturally creepy woods that people have died and gone missing in?”

“I’m already doing that last part, luv, and as for the pack mule bit, I’d bite ‘em first. That’s what minions are for. The firewood part, I seem to recall, was something you offered to do to get out of pitching a tent.”

“You and your logic,” she grumbled, balancing against a tree trunk as they headed down a small slope. “Stupid vampire thinks he’s so smart—” Her foot slipped, and she fell awkwardly with a little yelp, landing on the cold hard ground on her butt, one leg bent and the other stretched out in front of her. “Damn it!” she exclaimed. “I hate nature!”

Spike had turned when he heard her stumble and stood in front of her laughing his ass off.

“Oh, that was priceless,” he said, stifling another loud chuckle. “Beauty _and_ grace, Slayer.”

Buffy threw a rock at him that he narrowly avoided by ducking.

“Oi!”

“I hate the woods, I hate hiking, and I hate you,” she said, glaring at Spike. She picked her flashlight back up again and checked to make sure it hadn’t broken, relieved to see it was fine. She gripped the sword in her other hand and swung it at the tree she’d been using for balance, feeling frustrated, tired, sore, and hungry. The sword chipped off some of the bark, leaving a pale gash in the wood.

Buffy let out a sound resembling a growl, knowing she had to get up and keep walking back to camp. She pulled her knees up to her chest, let her head fall against them and groaned. Above her there was a loud sigh, a shuffle, then an arm wrapped around her waist, another under her knees and she found herself being lifted up into the air.

She blinked in surprise and swung her arms in an attempt to regain balance at the sudden movement until Spike’s annoyed voice drew her attention.

“Stop swinging that sword around before you decapitate me, you nit. Would you just stay still?”

Buffy complied, more out of shock than anything, one arm clinging to Spike’s coat for dear life, the flashlight now lying on her stomach up against his chest, and her sword arm around his shoulders, the blade pointed downwards.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded… or she meant to demand, but it came out sounding more surprised than anything else.

“Carrying you.”

“I got that. I was more wondering why?”

“Because it’s easier than listening to you bitch and whine the rest of the way. We’ll never make it back the way you’re carrying on. I’ll get us both there faster this way.”

“Put me down!”

Spike raised an eyebrow at her but kept right on walking. “You want to walk the rest of the way, fine. Be my guest, but I won’t be waiting around for you this time.”

Buffy hesitated. She knew from his tone that he meant it. He also made some very good points. She really didn’t want to walk back on her own, and although her feet still hurt even when she wasn’t putting any weight on them, it was much less agonizing than walking any further herself. Still, Spike was _carrying_ her, like some romance novel hero sweeping his damsel in distress off her feet.

On second thought, let’s not go down that road. There was nothing romantic about this little excursion. This was hardly the right setting, and there was certainly nothing heroic about Spike. If anything, she would be lucky if he didn’t _accidentally_ bang her head against a tree while carrying her. She shifted uncomfortably in his arms, not liking this scenario at all. He was way too close to her neck, too.

“Will you stop squirming before you make me drop you?”

“Sorry,” Buffy replied, and felt like biting her tongue off. She was _apologizing_ to him now. This was too weird for her to deal with.

Spike gave her a funny look, probably as amazed as she was by the apology, but kept on walking.

“Um, can we compromise?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Can I ride piggyback instead?” When he hesitated, she went on in an attempt to convince him. “I’m really not comfortable like this.”

Tense seconds passed as he considered it, but finally he nodded. “All right.”

She was set down - gently, she noted - and he turned around and even hunkered down a little for her so she could jump up on his back. It felt strange to hold on to him, one arm around his neck, her thighs wrapping around his waist and his arms curled under her knees, but it was better than being carried. His surprisingly slim frame made it pretty agreeable, too, but she’d never admit that. 

The new position allowed her to shine the flashlight for him, though he didn’t really need it.

“You settled?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she replied, and he started walking again.

He smelled of leather and cigarettes. Half-hidden by the collar of his duster (and right in front of her face) were the faint scars of a bite mark on his neck. She figured it must have been where Drusilla bit him back when he was first turned. There’s a disturbing mental image: Spike as a human. She couldn’t picture it. Somehow a Spike without fangs just wasn’t... well, _Spike_. Of course he’d been William then. 

“Should have figured you for a woman that likes to be on top,” he said then, breaking the silence. Buffy stiffened. “Is ‘the piggyback boink’ your favorite or do you have a whole dominatrix thing going as well? Wouldn’t surprise me if you were into the chains and whips thing, too.”

“The piggyback what?” Buffy asked hoarsely, her mind stuck on the phrase with utter horror.

Spike carried on, unfazed. “Bet you love ‘ride ‘em cowgirl’ too. Didn’t think you had much opportunity to try them out seein’ as you and the Poof only had the one go, or did you figure out a way around that little problem? Oh wait, I forgot, you had the whole ‘just friends’ thing happening last time I saw you. That mean you found yourself a new playmate?”

Buffy made several choked squeaking noises as she tried to settle on any of the rapid fire disgusted, outraged, and mortified responses running through her head.

“Refreshing to think you can be just as depraved as the rest of us when it comes to pleasure, what with that high and mighty act you have going. I have to admit, Slayer, I’m impressed.” He turned his head to give her a leer, his tongue poking out between his teeth before he faced forward again. “I do love a woman who takes what she wants.”

“Oh my God, stop talking!” Buffy yelled, one hand gripping his duster as though she were trying to squeeze the life out of it and the other grasping the sword, her knuckles pressing against his chest. “Just stop! Do you _want_ me to murder you? I can’t believe you’d—the way your mind—how can—Ugh! God!”

His chest vibrated a little under her hands and his shoulders were shaking ever so slightly. Buffy swallowed thickly, feeling her face flush even in the cold night air. She was suddenly all too aware of his hands hooked under her knees and the intimate way she was pressed against his back. She didn’t know where to look, now fully aware of where his mind had been at her entirely innocent request. No wonder he’d agreed so calmly. When the slight vibrations and shaking didn’t let up, the penny finally dropped. He was laughing at her!

“You are such an asshole!” she blurted. That did it. Spike stopped trying to hide his laughter and his gleeful chuckles cut through the silence of the woods.

“You are far too easy, Slayer,” he said between delighted giggles. “I only wish I could have had a better look at your face.

“I’m suddenly feeling less tired,” Buffy said, turning her head to hide her embarrassment, though anger was quickly taking its place.

“Oh, come on, Slayer, I was just poking fun. Not like you don’t do the same at every opportunity,” he retorted, his laughter finally fading.

“Ha ha.” She gave him a sour look, not that he could see it.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? Just trying to change the mood. It’s gloomy as your ex’s face out here.”

“You’re sorry?” she asked, stunned. Under her, Spike tensed.

“No.” A pause, followed by a sigh. “Not... really... look can we move on? You were sorry, I was sorry... it was a blip in our usual conversation. Let’s just move on and forget either of us ever said it, all right?”

“Fine by me,” Buffy said, relieved he was as willing as she to forget about that so called ‘blip’. “Poke more fun of me and I’ll stake you, though.”

“Duly noted.”

Silence claimed them again as he continued to walk forward, Buffy staring at the back of Spike’s bleached head, confused and wary. She was also trying not to squirm against him uncomfortably, and boy was she uncomfortable, still mortified from his ‘joking’ earlier.

“Isn’t there usually another string to your violin?” he asked after a few drawn out, awkward minutes. 

Buffy looked at him like he was speaking another language. “Huh?”

“Your band of merry sidekicks,” he explained. “There’s usually another one, isn’t there? The boy?”

She had to think for a moment before she realized he meant Xander. “Oh. Xander decided to go traveling. You know, do the whole find himself thing.”

Spike’s mouth twitched but he said nothing. Buffy glared at him, seeing the mirth in his eyes. He noticed her glaring and directed a full on smirk at her.

“Come on, Slayer. We both know that’s an easy way of saying he didn’t have the brains or the funds for college.”

Buffy pressed the blade of the sword against Spike’s neck threateningly. “Don’t insult my friends, Spike.”

Spike dropped the smirk to roll his eyes instead. When she didn’t ease up with the sword he paused and pretended to let go of her. Buffy yelped and grabbed the lapels of his coat tightly as she began to slide down his back until her descent abruptly stopped and she realized he still had a firm hold on her.

“No need to get nasty,” he said, ignoring her furious look. “Not like I think college is all that important anyway. Not like it’ll prevent anyone from becoming some beastie’s snack. Now am I dropping you off here or not?”

Buffy wanted so badly to hit him. Instead she eased the grip she had on his coat and looked away. He started walking again while she stared into the trees, fuming.

“Almost there,” he said a few minutes later.

Buffy surveyed their surroundings and squinted at the dark shape they were approaching. It looked like the cabin. She craned her head up to get a better view and finally located the campfire burning away merrily and the outline of the tent nearby. She was pleased to see they’d put out Giles’ hurricane lanterns like she’d asked.

“Finally,” she said. “Put me down.”

“Don’t want your chums to see you like this, eh?” Spike teased. “I dunno, maybe I should just walk right up with you on my back. Would be worth it for the looks on their faces.”

“Put. Me. Down.”

Spike rolled his eyes but did as she said. Buffy bit back a pained moan when her feet touched the ground again. She could see a figure pacing up and down inside the lit up area of their camp. It looked like Willow with some small weapon. She must be doing guard duty. Buffy smiled.

“What, no thank you?” Spike called after her, as she turned to head into camp.

Buffy paused and faced him slowly.

“I never asked for your help.”

“No, but you still got it, didn’t you. Could have left you there.”

“You need me,” she retorted, though she was less than sure about that. Spike wasn’t known for sticking to a plan for long.

“Could have knocked you out and dragged you back.”

They stood in silence, regarding each other for a moment. Eventually Buffy turned her back on him again and heard him scoff behind her.

“Thanks,” she said in a low voice, and hurried over to her friends as quickly as her injured feet would allow.

_________

 

He’d smelled the distinct and slightly chemical scent of tinned chicken soup before he’d seen the campsite. As they moved closer and finally into the light of the fire, he stopped breathing (which he’d purposely been doing for the entire walk because you never knew what might try to sneak up on you at night – he should know) altogether to avoid it. Despite knowing that the taste had nothing on proper, homemade soup with fresh ingredients, his stomach gave a twinge of hunger. 

Watching Buffy hobble over to Willow and lean on the little witch’s shoulder, he patted down his pockets in search of his pack of smokes. He’d made sure to feed well on his way back up to the lake (a fat truck driver and the tired looking prostitute he’d just paid for), but that was two days ago now. All he’d had since then was a small deer he’d hunted the night before.

It seemed that the land-dwelling animals were a clever bunch. They’d gotten the hell out and stayed at a safe distance from what Spike had dubbed the Dead Circle. After his little chat with the Manitou, he’d trekked the entire circumference of it and estimated that it was roughly two miles in radius. The size impressed him. 

He’d wondered briefly how come the humans didn’t seem to have noticed it from the air, figuring someone was bound to have flown over or near the area in a plane or hang glider, but shook it off. He’d stopped questioning human stupidity shortly after his turning, when he discovered how gullible and easily fooled they all were. If anyone had spotted it, they probably attributed it to pesticides or environmental issues or similar. Something that made it easy to sleep at night.

The downside was, of course, that there was rather a long hike before he could hunt. No doubt the Slayer and her minions would have issues with him killing Bambi, so he’d have to slip away unnoticed for a few hours somehow. He needed to catch more than just one deer, too, otherwise he’d only face the same problem the next day. 

Of course he wouldn’t fall over from starvation anytime soon. When you were hanging out with the Slayer, however, it was rather important to your continued existence that you were at the top of your game, lest she get it in her head to try and off you while you were weakened.

Lighting up a cigarette, he mentally patted himself on the back for at least having thought ahead enough to stock up on smokes before he came back up here. 

The witch had administered first aid on the Slayer’s feet, the end result being that she looked rather like a mummy from the ankles down. He’d had to endure the enticing smell of her blood through half the patrol so his sympathy didn’t stretch very far, not to mention that she really should have brought some proper clothes with her. Had the bint never been outside a city before? She was wearing too-tight jeans as well, tighter even than his. It was a miracle she hadn’t given herself blisters in other places, as well. 

The thought put a saucy smile on his face until he caught himself and grimaced. Best not to go there. He didn’t have a problem admitting to himself that the Slayer’s body was a rather fine specimen and he’d thought about exploring her soft curves on more than one occasion, but now was neither the time nor the place.

The Watcher was passing around bowls full of hot soup and brought out bread to dip in it. He watched as they ate, listened as they chatted about everything and nothing. It wasn’t until they began yawning and murmuring about bed that he went over and hunkered down beside them.

“I’ll keep guard. You have any plans for tomorrow?”

After exchanging quick glances, all three of them turned to look at him.

“Uh, actually,” Willow said, sitting up straighter and reaching beside her to grab the book she’d been toying with ever since he and Buffy returned. “I was thinking we could maybe try this spell?”

She held the book out for Giles, and he adjusted his glasses as he skimmed the page she indicated in the combined light of the campfire and the full moon above them.

“A Satsang spell? Yes, I suppose that could work.”

“A what now?” Buffy asked.

“Satsang,” Giles repeated. “It’s a type of spell meant to commune with the divine and learn or uncover the truth.”

“Hang on, when did the Lake Spirit become a God?”

“It isn’t, but I doubt we’d offend it by insinuating it is,” Willow offered.

“She,” Spike supplied without thinking.

“Huh?” 

“The spirit is a she,” he clarified. “Scant clothing, really nice tits. I like her. She wasn’t so keen on me, though.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Buffy deadpanned.

“I assume you were able to communicate with her without the aid of a spell?” Giles inquired.

“I’m not big on the magic, no. I was in the lake, and she just sort of appeared. Wasn’t very happy about me being inside her.”

Buffy sputtered. “What?”

“In the lake,” he said slowly, knowing exactly what she was thinking and relishing in it. “At the bottom of it, in fact. She is the embodiment of the lake itself, so I was inside her, and she showed herself to me there.”

“Uh,” Willow said, oblivious of the innuendo. “I don’t think that’s an option for those of us that need to breathe.”

“Quite so.”

“So we’ll do this singsong spell, then? Is it complicated?”

“Not at all,” Giles explained. “It is a fairly straight forward spell that only sends out a request for the divine to answer, it does not cause anything to happen.”

“She could say no?”

“Well, yes. One does not demand anything of the Gods. One asks politely.”

“And you sacrifice something in their honor,” Willow supplied. “To make them more likely to answer.”

“There’s sacrifices involved now?” Buffy raised an eyebrow and Spike had to smile at her lack of knowledge. 

“Burning of herbs, offerings of salt, corn and nuts, and usually some type of drink.”

“We’re asking the Spirit to come for a meal? Are we having a date with it?”

Spike couldn’t help but chuckle and was rewarded with the patented Slayer Stink-Eye.

“Sort of,” Willow said and he could tell she was trying not to laugh herself. “I’m sure she’ll talk to us. She wanted help, right?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Was right concerned with the Dead Circle and talking about how it was getting closer.”

“Dead Circle?” Buffy asked, eyebrow raised.

“I’ll show you tomorrow if your delicate little feet are up for it.”

She nearly growled as she assured him they would be. It was kind of sexy.


	4. Chapter 4

Spike listened to the Slayer and her friends’ hearts slow as they fell asleep, curled up inside the tent. They’d stayed up quite late; at least the girls had, prattling away with meaningless chatter until they tired themselves out. He was surprised the Slayer’d had the energy after all she’d been through—all she’d put herself through, he amended. Anyone could tell she didn’t belong in the great outdoors. At least he could get some satisfaction out of knowing she was having as miserable a time out here as he had been.

Spike shifted, trying to position his back more comfortably against the trunk of the tree he was perched in. A large knot dug into his side. He shuffled over a few inches and had to quickly grab hold of the branch he was sitting on when his coat got caught underneath him and he lost his balance.

“That’s right. Survive whatever nasty is prowling the woods just to fall out of a tree. Nice one, Spike,” he said, righting himself.

He sighed and looked down at the campfire and the little tent below. What was he even doing here? He was parked up a bloody tree for crying out loud, guarding the Slayer and her pals. If the demon community could see him now…

This was not the way things were supposed to be. He had fully intended for that last trip to Sunnydale to have been just that—his last. He was supposed to find Dru, convince her she was wrong, get her back, and get on with his immortal life. Instead, things had been just as bad as ever between them—worse even. She continued to cavort with any bottom feeding lowlife demon she could find, just to hurt him the way she claimed he’d hurt her with his betrayal and his obsession with…

Spike growled and glared down at the tent before quickly shifting his attention back to the surrounding forest and the cabin—that shadowy monstrosity that sat there facing the lake as though simply biding its time. He didn’t like it. He wasn’t afraid of it; it was just a building, after all, but it unsettled him, and it took a lot to do that to a vampire.

He still had quite a wait until sunrise. Luckily, the things prowling the Dead Circle hadn’t ventured outside that area, though he knew they were extending their range gradually and, after a while, this whole place would be a dead zone. He still hadn’t found anything out there. Well, nothing except a lot of pissed off animal spirits he didn’t fancy running into again. They’d taken him by surprise the first night and torn him up good. After that he’d been more careful, but they were persistent buggers, and the problem with spirits was having no way to evade them or hit back.

He sometimes wondered how he ended up in these situations. Teaming up with the Slayer had been the most unpredictable turn his life had taken since he’d become a vampire, but he was pretty sure this topped it. He gave it a few seconds thought before deciding that yeah, camping with the Slayer definitely topped any world saving truce.

It was for Dru. All of it. She couldn’t see it, but it was. The only reason he had ended up near the Slayer again after that truce was because Dru kept shoving him away. It didn’t exactly explain how he always ended up near _her_ specifically but somehow he did, and it inevitably made things worse for him, particularly in regards to Dru. Getting the Piniarneq ring would prove that to her. It would prove that he was _hers_ and she was _his_. Fate had brought them together and kept them together for over a century. She had to see that.

As much as he tried to ignore it, a niggling voice in the back of Spike’s mind kept questioning that conviction. Would she really see it? Would she care if she did? Dru had always been fickle. She cared for him, he knew that, both as a sire and a lover, but she didn’t love him the way he loved her. It didn’t matter to him of course; at least it never used to.

Except that was a lie too. It did bother him that she’d taken what they had for granted, that she’d been willing to throw it all away if Angelus only beckoned her to him. In his heart of hearts, he knew he would never match up to her ‘Daddy.’ It pissed him off, but despite that, he’d stayed loyal. He’d tried so hard to prove himself over and over, had gone above and beyond the call of duty to his sire and it hadn’t changed a damn thing.

It might have, if the Ponce hadn’t come back. That was _her_ fault. Freeing the git from his curse so her psycho lover could ruin both their lives. And she had the gall to criticize him and his relationship? Ha!

Regardless, Dru had been more than happy to let him sit in that chair and rot while she paraded around town with her Daddy like a truly happy princess. Oh, she’d taken care of him as much as she could. Yet she’d ignored his undisguised jealousy and his wounded pride. It was just a game to her. He was nothing more than a toy for her amusement.

Spike felt a gust of wind blow through the trees and wrapped his coat around him for protection. The camp was as secure as ever and nothing had moved anywhere. Even the owl that had been making noise earlier seemed to have fallen quiet. There were no other unnatural sounds either, which he supposed was a good thing.

Spike realized that he was on the verge of moping while up a bloody tree. He shook his head to clear it of negative thoughts and glared at the still and silent lake. That ring would be his soon enough. His plan would succeed as long as he remained focused on it and saw it through to the end this time.

Those other thoughts… they weren’t true, not really. It was just his own misery talking. And even if they were true they didn’t matter. Not once he had what he was after.

Spike straightened his back up against the tree trunk again and banished the annoying thoughts, focusing on the woods and his job of guard duty. He’d be back in the basement of the cabin to sleep soon enough, then he’d have to take the Slayer to his least favorite place at the moment. He’d need all his strength for that.

He cast another glance down to where three warm bodies lay sleeping.

So would she.

_______

 

The sounds of metal clattering against metal dragged her slowly from her dream. It faded fast like dreams do, but she could remember that it had been nice and Angel had been there. It left a small smile on her face as she stretched and yawned. She felt the bones in her legs pop and wiggled her bare feet a little inside the sleeping bag. There was soreness, but nowhere near the amount of pain she’d experienced yesterday. Excellent. By noon she should be good as new again, thank you Slayer healing.

When she crawled out of the tent and blinked up at the sun, she was forced to amend that estimate – it already _was_ noon, so she should be fine by mid-afternoon or so. Wondering why Giles had let her sleep so long, she padded barefoot over to where he was sitting with Willow. 

There was something yummy-smelling simmering on Giles’ little cooker that looked like rice with bits of veggies and sausage in it. A metal spoon was inserted in the mixture. That would be the sound she’d heard. Giles had several books open around him and appeared to be cross-checking something. Willow sat beside him, taking careful notes in a spiral notebook.

“Morning,” she greeted.

“Hey Buffy,” Willow chirped.

“Morning. I let you sleep in, since the spirits are most active at night and you’ll likely have to stay up late.”

“Thoughtful of you.” Buffy smiled at her Watcher.

Willow cleared her throat and nudged Giles.

“Ah, yes, well, it was Spike’s suggestion, actually. He woke me up just before sunrise to let me know he was going to the basement to sleep.”

“Right, okay.”

“He wants you to wake him as soon as it’s dark,” Giles went on. “And he muttered something about not using boots? I wasn’t sure what he was on about but he left before I could ask.”

“No worries, I know what he meant,” she said, and stifled a giggle. She caught Willow giving her an odd look so she winked in reply, a signal they used which meant ‘I’ll fill you in later’.

“We already ate, so help yourself.” He nodded at the pot.

“Think I’ll freshen up first,” Buffy said and lifted a hand to shade her eyes so she could look down towards the lake. It looked very tempting in the heat of the California sun. “Is the lake water clean? I mean, would it be fine to use it to like, wash my face and stuff? And do you think spirit lady would be okay with it?”

“I sure hope so.” Willow grinned. “I did earlier.”

“As did I. And since neither of us has broken out in boils yet, I’d say the water is safe. Don’t drink it though.”

“Roger that.” She set off at a brisk trot down the little pathway that connected the cabin and the lake. The earth was warm and felt rather nice against her poor abused feet. 

While she walked, she let her eyes wander the surroundings. In the bright light of day the entire area had once again taken on a pleasant and peaceful appearance. It was hard to remember how not-at-all peaceful everything had looked at night. Somehow she just couldn’t picture the glittering, blue water as anything but inviting or the surrounding forest as anything but refreshingly cool for when it got too hot. Even the cabin behind her couldn’t muster up more than a derelict front, yet in the dark it had sent chills up and down her spine.

Shrugging it off as just her imagination running off with her after all of Spike’s hype, she practically skipped the last stretch down to the water’s edge. 

_______

 

“I’m bored!” Buffy cried out for the third time, but by now there was little sympathy left in her friends.

“Did you try reading that book?” Willow asked. 

“I made it to page three.”

Willow shook her head, a small smile on her face.

“I’m not a book reading kinda gal,” Buffy said in her defense. 

After taking off her bandages and inspecting the damage down by the lake, she’d confirmed that the blisters were healing nicely. They would easily rip open again, however, if she pushed it and put her boots back on. Thus, she’d been chained to the campsite with nothing to do all day. It was driving her batty, which in turn was driving the others batty by extension.

Giles looked up from the scribbled notes he’d been poring over for the last few hours, but made no comment. 

“Why do we have to wait for Spike before we can do the spell again?” she whined.

“It’s not technically for Spike’s sake,” Willow patiently explained. “The hour of twilight is one of the times of day when magic is supposed to be at heightened power. Like midnight. But it’s probably a good idea for him to be present anyway, since he’s already spoken to her. Or been spoken to _by_ her at least.”

Buffy sighed. “I really should have brought something to do.”

A minute or two passed during which the only sounds were the rustling of Willow turning a page in her book and the soft scratchy noise of Giles noting something down or underlining a word.

“Like a crossword puzzle book or something, or maybe my jump rope.”

Another couple of minutes passed.

“What I wouldn’t give for my hula hoop or Xander’s Game Boy.”

Giles gave her A Look, but said nothing.

“I’d even be willing to do homework.”

Nothing. Not even a teasing comment about how you knew it was bad when Buffy Summers was volunteering to do homework. She let out a dramatic sigh and set off to wander down to the lake again. Maybe if she found some small rocks she could try to skip them on the surface.

Ten minutes later she’d given up on that idea. It wasn’t her fault the rocks were being stupid and refused to skip. They just plopped into the water and sank to the bottom. They were stupid rocks.

“I’m bored,” she announced as she reached the campsite again.

Willow sucked on her lower lip for a moment as she finished the page she was on, then glanced up at her. “Did you bring some extra socks?”

“Uh, yeah, a couple pairs,” she confirmed. “Why?”

“I’ve got an idea.”

Thankful to have anything at all to do, Buffy followed Willow to the cabin and into the bedroom where their non-essential stuff was tucked away.

“I brought an extra pair of sneakers with me, in case my hiking boots got wet,” Willow explained as she rooted around in a bag. “I know my shoe size is bigger than yours, but if you double up on socks, or maybe triple…”

Buffy eyed the battered sneakers that Willow held up with a raised eyebrow. They certainly weren’t very fashionable, and she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them back in Sunnydale, but out here they just might do the trick.

“Worth a shot.” She grinned. 

With some trial and error back at the campsite, she decided that three pairs of socks were necessary for the sneakers to feel like they weren’t going to slip off her feet any moment. They were still a little loose, but she could work with that. She’d be willing to work with much more if it just meant she could do something other than sit on her ass and wait for the sun to set.

“How are we for firewood?” she asked brightly.

Giles glanced at the large pile next to their tent and was about to speak when he caught Willow’s not-so-subtle signaling behind her (she could _hear_ the frantic waving of hands). He cleared his throat. “We could definitely use some more, I’d say.”

“Great!”

_________

 

Joyce had just been about to call Buffy when there was a knock at the door. She wondered who on earth it could be since she wasn’t expecting anyone. She made her way into the hall thinking it might be a neighbor looking to borrow something. At least she was fairly sure it wasn’t a vampire this time as the sun was still up.

“Mrs. Summers. Hi. Is Buffy home? And is Willow here per chance?”

“Xander.” Joyce took in the unexpected appearance of her daughter’s friend standing on her doorstep. “Buffy said you were gone travelling.”

“Yeah, well the thing about travelling is it’s really not all it’s cracked up to be. You’re by yourself, and you have to pay for stuff all the time.” He stepped into the hallway and looked around. “Like gas for instance.” Xander turned to her and gave her a lopsided smile as she closed the door.

“I see. Well, I’m sorry to tell you that your timing is a little off. Buffy isn’t here right now.”

“Okay. Any idea where she is? I went to Willow’s but no one was home. Did they go to see Giles? Say, they aren’t off on some Slayer related business are they?”

“Actually—”

 

“Aww, I hope it’s nothing exciting. I hate missing the good stuff,” Xander interrupted. “So Giles’ house?” he asked again, heading for the door she had just closed.

“I’m afraid you won’t find them there,” Joyce said loudly. “They’re all out of town.”

“Out of town?” He cocked his head and frowned a little.

“Yes, they’ve gone camping somewhere near Lake Tahoe with Spike.”

The stunned look on Xander’s face caused Joyce some concern. When he didn’t speak for a long time she placed a hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze. “Xander, dear, are you all right?”

“They’re whatting where with huh?”

“Okay,” Joyce said. “I’m going to interpret that jumble of words as a question. They’re camping near Lake Tahoe with Spike… Xander? Are you sure you’re okay? You look sort of—pale.”

“Did they say when they’d be back?”

“No, I’m afraid not. I can tell Buffy you came by when I call if you’d like. I wanted to thank Spike about some advice he gave me too if I can get a hold of him. I suppose I should wait until late evening to call,” she added as an afterthought.

“Oh God, I drove myself into a parallel universe. Excuse me Mrs. Summers, I need to go.”

“Wait. Go where?” she asked, watching him hurry down the path.

“To find the world that makes sense again,” he called back.

Joyce just shook her head and closed the door. Buffy and her friends could be so melodramatic at times.

_________

 

Careful to avoid the broken step and feeling more confident this time that the stairs would hold her weight, Buffy made her descent into the dank basement of the cabin in search of Spike. When she reached the bottom, she was met with the usual skittering noises of rats and shuddered at the sound. How Spike could stand to sleep down here with them was anyone’s guess. Then again, it wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter, and he wasn’t known for his sense of taste anyway.

She swung her flashlight around the pitch black room, its glow illuminating the empty and abandoned furniture again as she grew accustomed to her surroundings and sought out the spot where she’d found the vampire sleeping yesterday.

“Spike?” she called, wondering if he might already be awake.

There was no answer so she continued across the room, spotting a couple of cobwebs trailing down from the ceiling and dodging them with a grimace. The last thing she wanted was spiders in her hair.

“Spike?” she tried again, but was met with the same silence as before. “Don’t blame me if I have to hit you to wake you up, okay? I’m taking your silence as a yes.”

Not a sound. He was definitely out of it or he would have made some smart ass comeback or empty threat. She located the blanket he’d been sleeping on but frowned at the lack of a vampire lying on top of it. Surely he wouldn’t have picked some other spot and left the blanket here?

She got closer and saw his boots and coat still sitting on the ground next to the blanket, as well as a small duffel bag that was partially unzipped. She shone the flashlight around again but couldn’t see any sign of him.

“Spike? Where are you?”

He hadn’t gone and dusted himself had he? But that didn’t make any sense. He hadn’t been upstairs and there was nowhere else he could have gone, not to mention he’d hardly have left his boots behind to go for a stroll.

Buffy turned her attention back to his duffel. She could only guess at the contents. Lots of cigarettes and booze probably. He always seemed to be wearing the same old clothes every time she saw him, so there was slim chance that he had any of those tucked away in the bag. What else would a vampire own? Angel had liked books, classical music, and art. Spike didn’t strike her as the reading kind… although he’d found information on the ring in a book, so who knew?

Her curiosity piqued, Buffy hunkered down and reached a hand out to the bag. She’d only take a tiny peek and then keep looking for him. Just to make sure he wasn’t up to anything else while he was here. It would go against her duty as the Slayer _not_ to investigate a notoriously evil vampire’s belongings to ensure he didn’t have some nefarious scheme in mind. Who knew what dangerous mystical objects he might have? She slid the zip open a tiny bit more and reached inside.

“Not nice to snoop, Slayer.”

Buffy yanked her hand back as though it were on fire and shot to her feet. She spun around to find that Spike had snuck up on her. He stood, arms folded across his chest and a smug look on his face, no more than two feet behind her.

“I wasn’t snooping.”

He raised a scarred eyebrow at her and glanced down at his bag.

“I wasn’t! I was just—investigating.”

“Not seeing the difference.”

Buffy sucked in her cheeks. She knew she’d been caught red-handed with no explanation other than the truth—that she’d been snooping. Of course, she had a right to snoop. He was evil. He could be up to anything.

“Okay, so I was looking through your stuff—or going to anyway. It’s reasonable. I have to be sure I can trust you, don’t I?”

“Trust? Right. We both know that’s a load of bollocks, Slayer. Keep your hands to yourself, and maybe you ought to pay less attention to my belongings and stay alert for people sneaking up on you. Be right easy for a spirit to take a bite out of you otherwise. _I_ could have taken a bite out of you just now, come to think of it.”

Buffy brought into view the stake behind her back that she’d instinctively grabbed for, waving it in front of him to emphasize her point.

“You would have ended up adding to the dust on this floor if you’d tried, bleach boy.”

Spike cocked his head and smiled in a half amused, half impressed look, took hold of her wrist, ignoring her flinch, and lowered her hand.

“Not so fast, pet. We’ve still got work to do, but at least you’re not completely hopeless.”

Buffy scowled and looked away, dropping her eyes to the floor as he let go of her hand. She could still feel the sensation of his cool grip on her skin; she fought the urge to rub the spot with her other hand in an attempt to shake the feeling. It was then she caught sight of his bare feet.

“Hey! You were hiding on purpose, weren’t you? You tried to sneak up on me!”

“Didn’t need to try all that hard either.” He brushed past her to pick up his boots.

“What were you trying to do? Get yourself staked by attempting to scare me?”

“No,” Spike said, his back turned to her. “I heard you coming and decided I’d rather not risk another rude awakening. Was just going to get up and meet you when I realized it would be a perfect opportunity to test your reflexes.”

Buffy waited until he had his boots on, picked up his coat and turned to face her again. He stared at her glare before finally asking, “What?”

She shoved him hard.

“You _were_ trying to scare me, you asshole.”

“What of it?” Spike retorted. “You were trying to go through my stuff.”

“To see if you were hiding anything which, by the way, wouldn’t surprise me. What’s in the bag, Spike?”

“Nothing,” he said, irritated. “Smokes, some Jack and a few other harmless personal belongings. Nothing that would interest you.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes, and he copied her expression. Eventually, she gave in and turned to lead the way back upstairs again.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Mutual.”

_________

 

Buffy ducked under the cabin door and took in a deep breath. Already, the dark shadows of the trees and the cabin had spread across the clearing and turned it from a serene hideaway into an unwelcoming, almost otherworldly, realm inhabited by the supernatural.

She spotted Giles and Willow carrying things down to the lake in preparation for the ritual that would – hopefully – allow them to communicate with the Manitou. She felt Spike come to stand beside her, looking at the pair as they discussed the details of the offering. Willow was excited to see the lake spirit and speak to it. Giles had been enthusiastic, too, no doubt pleased to record the experience in his Watcher’s diary.

“You think she’ll show?” Buffy wasn’t quite sure why she felt the need to break the silence between her and Spike considering the way most of their conversations went.

Spike gave her a look before he shrugged and turned his attention back to the lake.

“Probably. Not too many people making offerings these days, I’d wager. Plus you lot are here to help. Don’t see why she’d ignore you.”

He had a point. As interesting as meeting this lake spirit would be, Buffy was itching to get to the Dead Circle Spike had mentioned. After such a long day of nothing happening she was looking forward to some action. Even if it meant walking to get said action.

“Buffy!”

Buffy looked up when Willow called her name. She saw her friend waving to her from the lake.

“Looks like they’re ready,” she said. “Time to go meet the lady of the lake.”

________

 

“It’s quite simple. There are some incantations in Latin to invoke any nearby deity, then I light the candle to draw her attention to the offerings we’ve brought,” Giles explained.

Willow beamed proudly at the little makeshift altar they’d built, on which sat a bowl full of trail mix and another, smaller one with salt in it. There was also a plastic glass of water. Probably of the holy kind.

Spike was only half-listening as the watcher went over the details of the spell. Being evil and all that, he had taken the liberty to look at the book itself while the humans slept. As spells went, it was indeed a simple one, but that didn’t change anything.

“Then, I, er, give a speech, which must be individually tailored to suit the given situation and the specific deity that you hope to communicate with.”

“There’s a speech?” the Slayer asked.

“Just a short one,” Willow said. “It’s basically us telling her who we are and what we want, in a really polite way.”

He tuned out completely.

While he did not like magic and preferred to stay far away from it (desperate drunken stupors aside), Spike was pretty well versed in the art. Drusilla had regularly done spells, and he’d hired a witch or a warlock from time to time when magic would make a complicated situation a whole lot easier. He’d always made sure to hire professionals, however, and he’d made a habit of looking over whatever spells Dru did before she went through with them. For as long as he could remember, he had a healthy respect for magic – something which his experiences over the years had only strengthened. 

You did not fuck around with magic. At least not if you wanted to remain alive and in one piece.

The witch and the Watcher finished laying out the circle at the water’s edge. The Watcher’s movements were measured and precise, but the little witch—She had entirely too much passion and far too little control as far as he was concerned. He could almost smell her excitement. It made him nervous. If the girl overlooked or messed up even the smallest aspect of the spell it could be disastrous. He hoped the older and clearly more experienced man would look over everything before he began.

Buffy looked over at him curiously, and he realized he’d been tapping his fingers against his coat. He stopped instantly, but didn’t offer an explanation for his skittish behavior. If he knew her right, she probably wouldn’t handle criticism of her best friend very well. The thought made him pause. Did he really know the Slayer this well? How the hell had that happened? Again, he wondered how he’d ended up here in these ridiculous circumstances. Too late to back out now, though.

“Venio excolo obtestor propinquo,” Giles spoke aloud, and lit the candle by their improvised altar. Spike had to resist the urge to correct his grammar. “Orior iam! Offero divines sacrificum, gratia agree.”

It was still light enough that they could see to the other side of the lake without difficulty. The little candle flickered, but nothing else happened. The Slayer shifted her feet next to him and crossed her arms. She appeared as wary as he was. Good.

“Benevolent and protective guardian, I call on you to reveal yourself. Open my heart to understanding. Open my eye to inner sight. Reveal yourself to us, so we may talk to you and aide you.”

For several long seconds nothing at all happened. He could sense that the Slayer was getting antsy, but just before she reached the point of moving or speaking, there was a sound. The soft, barely-there sound of a ripple in the water. Then another. He doubted that the other two could even hear it, it was that low, but Buffy did.

Then, slowly, the water bubbled like a geyser getting ready to burst. It never did burst, though, it merely continued to rise up and up, until it became clear that it wasn’t a bubble but the top of a head. Her head.

She looked different when she was out of the water. Down at the bottom of the lake it had been dark and the mud he’d stirred up as he searched for the ring had only made it worse. She’d been shimmery and otherworldly beautiful but otherwise human looking. Now it was much more clear that she was a spirit and not human at all.

Oh she still had the basic body of a human female (and she still had those rather nice breasts, he was pleased to note) but water ran down her dark hair and along the length of her body almost like cloth, in a constant stream that had no beginning and no end. The bottom of her legs did not end in feet, but sort of faded out into nothing but water, dripping down into the lake as she hovered a few centimeters above the surface. She was naked, but the water covering her body and its constant movement blurred the details of her genitalia. 

He stared in fascination at the way the water seemed almost to flow around her, up one side and down the other. What would happen if she froze, he wondered. Would she turn into a giant ice sculpture? 

The Watcher cleared his throat, but the Manitou beat him to it.

“You have called me, humans. You seek answers. What is it that you wish to know?”


	5. Chapter 5

Even hearing the spirit’s voice was very different. Underwater her mouth had moved but the voice had sounded inside Spike’s head, and he’d been unable to reply properly. She’d appeared to read his mind for his part of the conversation. Now she was speaking normally to all of them. He knew better than to try and make any sense of it.

“We were alerted to your plight by our, uh.” Giles paused for a second and glanced over at him briefly. “Our friend, here.”

Beside him, the Slayer snorted. He debated whether he should be offended or not.

“He told us that your existence is threatened by evil, but unfortunately he was not very clear on exactly what it is that is hurting the land here or what it is we can do. Could you please tell us how we can help?”

“You are not a warrior, you are a medicine man. There is nothing you can do.”

“Oh, well, uh. Buffy?” Giles called over his shoulder and, reluctantly, the Slayer stepped forward.

“Hi,” she said, all cheek as usual. “Just call me Buffy the Warrior Princess.”

The spirit nodded in approval. “Yes. You are a true warrior, and unlike the pale one you are untainted.”

Although she’d called him that before, it still made him frown. It’s not like he could help being a vampire, nor did he see how it made him any less suitable to fix her little problem. Muscle was muscle.

“But you are not my daughter. You do not follow the way of the People,” the spirit went on, and it was Buffy’s turn to frown

“Huh?”

“You resent not just this place, but nature itself. Even as I speak you long for the harsh, fake lights and the cold metals of your home. You do not belong here.”

“Not about to disagree with you on that,” Buffy replied. “And I know I’m supposed to be all doormat-y to you because you’re like, a really big deal in the spirit world and all, but you know what? I’m not buying it.”

He let out a snort of laughter, but quickly stifled it. The watcher looked about ready to fall apart, and Willow’s mouth was an ‘o’ of shock.

“See, this is how I understand it,” Buffy carried on without letting the Manitou get a word in. “You’ve got to be pretty desperate, right? I mean, you insinuated that Spike wasn’t pure and all, but you still told him about your problem. I’m thinking that whatever it is that’s destroying your pretty nature is scaring the hell out of you and you’re willing to take any help you can get, am I right? So why don’t we drop the whole keeping up appearances thing and get down to business.”

Spike had a sudden urge to applaud her and, despite the wrongness of it, felt his respect for her grow. Of course he hadn’t exactly been Mr. Polite with the Manitou himself when he first met her, but he hadn’t called her out on the pretentious bullshit like the Slayer just had. 

“Your lack of honor is a disgrace to you and your family,” the spirit chided, but it was clear that there was no fire behind the statement. “You are right, I have no choice. The great evil is approaching, and I am running out of time.”

The Watcher had held his breath and now released it noisily. Spike smirked.

“Tell me about this great evil.” Buffy cocked her head to the side, waiting. 

“It resides deep in the woods, in the cold darkness. It was bound for an eternity, but now the bonds are weakening. The first thing it did was to kill my people.”

“I read about that.” Eager as ever, Willow shared what she knew of the incident. “There was a massacre here back in the pioneer days, where an entire peaceful tribe of Native Americans were slaughtered by two rogue soldiers.”

“They were corrupted,” the spirit said, nodding her head and causing droplets of water to fly through the air. “Their wills were no longer their own, the great evil had them.”

“Kinda like mind control?” Buffy chewed her lip, thoughtfully. 

“Or possession.” The Watcher adjusted his glasses, also appearing to be deep in thought.

“Corrupted,” the spirit repeated. “Like it is corrupting the land and everything in it. There is so much suffering. Please, end it.”

“We’ll do our best,” Buffy chirped. “It’d be really great if you could like, point us in the right direction or something, though? Or tell me how to kill it?”

The spirit reached out a hand to point past the cabin and into the woods. Straight toward the Dead Circle. He wasn’t at all surprised.

“I do not know how it can be harmed. I only know that it is old and strong. It is still bound, but the chains are weakening and will break soon.”

“And when that happens, are we talking apocalypse bad, or?” 

“I do not know what that word means, but if the great evil is set free, it will end the world.”

“Yep, that’s what I thought,” Buffy said. “I’ve come to learn it usually is. So, anything else you can tell us? So far you haven’t exactly been a fountain of useful information.”

“I only know what I know,” the spirit replied tartly. “When the corruption reaches my waters, I will learn more, but by then it will be too late and you will fight me as well.”

With that ominous warning, she imploded. Spike had once seen a photograph of the moment a needle pierced a water balloon and it reminded him of that, the way her body was intact one second and falling in on itself to become nothing but water the next. 

________

 

Buffy selected a battleaxe from the bag of weapons she’d brought and pocketed a few small knives just in case. She still had Mr. Pointy tucked into her waistband, ensuring that Spike didn’t get any wild ideas about turning on her while they were in the middle of nowhere.

Spike selected a sword for himself and when Buffy gave him a stern look, frowned at her and gave it an expert twirl which she responded to with an eye roll.

“What? I’ve been dealing with those things with nothing but my fists and my fangs and it’s got me nowhere. It won’t help much with killing them but at least it keeps them at arm’s length.”

“So weaponry not something you take with you? Check. Not very clever of you when you’re supposed to be fighting things up here.”

“I wasn’t exactly planning on that when I arrived. Figured I’d be fishing for a ring and be on my way back to Dru. Besides. You can’t carry all that stuff you brought with you alone, and you want me to back you up, yeah?”

“Still not so sure about that,” Buffy said, double checking that she had everything before they headed out. “Just remember who you’re supposed to be attacking.”

“Likewise.”

_______

 

Buffy said goodbye to Willow and Giles and let Spike lead the way out of camp and into the woods. Everything was back to being dark and creepy, so she flipped on the flashlight and once again resumed staring at the ground so she wouldn’t trip herself up. The beam caught the bottom of Spike’s coat and his booted feet as he marched ahead, not using his vamp face as Giles had allowed him another flashlight, more for Buffy’s benefit than anything. At least with the light she’d be able to spot him if they got separated, and it would make their surroundings easier to see.

They stayed quiet as they trekked up the hill, neither one having much to say to the other that wouldn’t end in a fight. Buffy preferred the silence. Or she would have if the lack of noise didn’t amplify the eerie sounds of small animals moving around the woods. The birds were the worst. They took off flying when Buffy and Spike came too close to their nests, and it made her heart pound every time the branches shook and rustled violently above them.

She hated that the place had such an effect on her. She was the Slayer. She walked around dark and dangerous streets at night without a care in the world. She didn’t fear the night—the things that roamed in it feared _her_. Out here, though, everything was so unfamiliar and unbearably quiet that she was constantly on edge, alert for the slightest noise or hint of movement.

She did what she could to distract herself, recalling her chat with the lake spirit. Giles hadn’t been pleased with what he called her “brash attitude” but it had gotten the job done and he couldn’t argue with that. Willow had babbled about how amazing the experience had been. Buffy had to admit it sure was something, seeing her rise out of the water like that, even if she was too formal and grand for Buffy’s taste.

She had been pretty too. The water flowing up and down her had been mesmerizing, even more so than watching the waves at the beach. Who wore water as clothing? One thing was for sure—it left _nothing_ to the imagination.

Buffy glanced up at Spike’s black clad shoulders as he stalked forward with quick, easy strides, weaving around trees and sidestepping fallen branches or rocks with barely a second glance. No wonder he’d liked the Manithingy so much.

“Lake Lady was nice, and you said she wasn’t keen on you which shows good judgment. Not that it bothers you to hear, seeing as you enjoy pissing people off.”

Spike glanced at her over his shoulder briefly and raised an eyebrow but soon looked away and continued walking.

“Toss you in front of a scantily clad female and you’re happy regardless of the situation, huh?”

That pulled him up short, and Buffy furrowed her brow when he slowly turned to face her, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“What?” she asked, uncertain about what she’d said to cause that reaction.

Spike’s grin got even wider, if that were possible.

“Hell, Slayer, you can ‘toss me’ in front of your ninety year old grandmother and I can guarantee I’ll still be very,” he chuckled and gave her a once over before meeting her gaze again, “ _very_ happy.”

“Ew! What? Ew! Spike, I’m not even sure what you’re implying, but I know it’s gross...and probably stake worthy.”

Spike clicked his tongue and cocked his head, still smirking at her.

“British slang, Slayer. Toss means somethin’ else in my language in certain circumstances. With your particular choice of words... you implied something really naughty. And appealing, actually.”

Buffy absorbed that and ran the sentence through her head again. His meaning dawned on her at last, and Spike knew when it did, judging from the absolute glee on his face while her mouth opened in shock and disgust. Before she could even say a word, he’d spun and started to walk forward again. She followed without thinking, too focused on the new information he’d given her about a word she’d be afraid to use ever again.

“Spike! You know I never... why would you tell me that? No, wait, I know the answer to that. Because you’re a pig, and you wanted to rub it in my face.”

She heard him chuckle again. She scowled at his back, about to ask what was so funny now when she paused to replay what she’d said again. _Oh God!_

“No, not you wanted to rub _it_ in my—I didn’t mean it like that! You stop laughing right now! It’s not funny!”

Trust a pervert to take even the most innocent of words or sentences and turn them into filth. Of course, Spike was even pervier than most. It did prove her point though. Neither of them could open their mouths without it escalating into some sort of fight. 

All his fault, of course.

“We’re halfway,” he said suddenly, interrupting her before she could say anything more that he’d turn into lewd suggestions. “You’ll notice when we reach the perimeter. It’s been gaining ground and things start to get a bit—” he paused as though choosing the right word. “Well, dead.”

“Hence the inventive name, right? Though to be fair, I don’t know how much deader this place could get.” She was glad for the change in topic.

She’d rather forget everything that just happened, including the mental images she’d unfortunately been getting because of it. Images of Spike doing things—things she really didn’t want to think about him doing. Especially when she was involved in some of those—No! Stop thinking. Change of topic, change of topic, change of topic.

What was the change of topic again? The Dead Circle, right. And the woods. Focusing on the creepy woods would help.

She hoped.

“Oh, you’ll see,” he said.

He didn’t elaborate any further, and Buffy chose not to question what he meant. After all, she’d see when they got there. She cast another wary look at their surroundings. The place was practically pitch black, and the trees were so tall it was hard to see the sky without craning her neck.

The quiet dragged on as they marched forward, until it became too much for Buffy to bear. Spike and his way with words be damned, she needed to say something to break the awkward silence.

“So—” she began, not sure how to finish her pitiful attempt at a sentence, her thoughts having run their course for the moment. She may have been the slightest bit wary of the meaning behind words in ‘Spike language’ too.

“So what?”

He was being short with her, indicating he had no desire to talk. She could feel her temper flaring, though he hadn’t insulted her or poked fun. How did he do that so easily? Just a word, just a gesture—one seemingly normal, innocent thing that anyone could say or do had her blood pumping when it was him saying or doing it.

“There’s no need to be a jerk, I was just trying to pass the time.”

“By what? Having a cozy little chat? That’s not our forté, pet, if you hadn’t noticed. It’s best we keep our mouths shut. Safer that way.”

“Like I’d stake you for being you. You run your mouth plenty, and I’ve still refrained from staking you for it… more’s the pity. And you better not even think of using my sword to—”

“So we can hear if anything tries to sneak up on us,” Spike said slowly and deliberately, glancing at her over his shoulder. “We distract each other and some beastie could get the better of us.”

“Oh,” Buffy said, realizing he had a point. “Right. I knew that.”

Spike shook his head and picked up the pace. Buffy stuck her tongue out at his back as she followed. Yes, it was childish, but he didn’t need to get so superior on her. Jerk. She did however, refrain from talking for the rest of the hike. If they didn’t have anything decent to say to each other then what was the point? What could you talk about with your mortal enemy?

So they walked on in strained silence until Spike finally began to slow down. Buffy wondered if she was supposed to be picking up on any signs that would let her know they’d reached the perimeter. He’d seemed sure she’d know the place when they got there, and she didn’t want him berating her for not figuring it out.

She paid close attention to the woods but everything seemed the same; dark, eerie, and quiet. She watched as Spike’s pace slowed even more until he stopped altogether. He was staring ahead intently and chewing on his bottom lip. Buffy studied him closely and noticed his fingers twitching at his side, his hand holding the sword tensing.

“Spike? You okay?”

He didn’t seem to hear her at first, and she tugged on his sleeve. He still ignored her, so she tugged harder. He jumped and looked down at her, exhaling when recognition dawned and he swallowed.

“You okay?” she repeated, wondering what had gotten into him all of a sudden.

“Fine,” he said, his voice sounding a little hoarse. “I’m fine. It’s just up ahead. I can, eh, hear things.”

“What kind of things?”

A wolf howled, making them both look up in surprise. Its voice carried into the night in a long mournful sound with that same unnatural waver Buffy remembered. The call faded, and there was a beat before it came again, just as loud and lasting just as long. They stood frozen like statues as they listened to the haunting music. A third howl echoed through the trees, filling the air around them and demanding their full attention. Eventually the noise faded.

Several beats later Buffy knew the creature was gone. Whatever it was had wandered off. The silence fell upon them again, seeming somehow more oppressive and she almost longed for the somewhat chilling yet captivating sound to return.

“It’s gone,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” Spike said. “Bugger likes to make a racket and vanish. Doesn’t usually come this close to the Circle though,” he added, frowning.

“Well,” Buffy said, “we best get going.”

“Yeah, er—” Spike made to step forward and paused. Buffy looked up at him to see him quirk an eyebrow at her and glance at his sleeve. Only then did she realize she still had a hold of his coat, was in fact gripping it tightly in her fist. She let go as though her hand was on fire.

“Sorry. I got… distracted.”

Spike nodded at her and Buffy hoped he couldn’t see the blush she felt rising on her cheeks. Thankfully he moved forward and she could hide behind him as they continued onwards. 

She got distracted?

________

 

Spike hadn’t been exaggerating when he said she’d know the difference. Almost immediately, Buffy felt something in the atmosphere change. It was like stepping inside off a noisy street and letting a door close behind you. The background noises of animals and crickets, that hadn’t really counted as noise in Buffy’s opinion, when they’d been hiking through the woods was gone. In its place was… nothing.

There was no rustling in the undergrowth, no sound of an animal shuffling along the forest floor and, more disturbing, no sound of a breeze rustling through the trees. It was as if the air itself was dead. The branches, when Buffy glanced upwards, were still, as though frozen in time. Dark stains crawled up the bark; stains Buffy couldn’t—and didn’t want to—identify. The ground, too, was covered in odd looking stains and damp, dark patches.

Buffy took it all in, feeling bewildered. She bent to examine one of the stains, poking at it with her axe. It appeared to be just dirt, but weird dirt. She gagged when a nasty odor began to rise from the disturbed soil; an odor of decay and rotting vegetation. She turned to look at Spike who watched her expectantly.

“It’s like this the whole way in?”

He nodded. “Worse. It’s not just patches, it’s all over the forest floor and the trees. And trust me when I say you don’t want to get a whiff of what the tree sap in there smells like.”

Buffy wrinkled her nose and stood up. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Right then. S’pose we should head on in,” Spike said, his eyes darting around nervously. “Meet the neighbors.”

“Right,” Buffy said, watching him carefully. He seemed jumpier than usual. He’d been edgy ever since they got near this place. To be honest it was putting her on red alert to see him so worked up. She had no clue what was in store for them, but his reaction wasn’t doing anything to build her confidence. “You uh, kinda need to lead the way.”

“Yeah,” Spike said and sucked in his cheeks. He seemed to gather himself for a moment before he shook off whatever had been getting to him and strode forward purposefully, head held high.

Buffy watched him go, bemused, then shook her head and followed.

________

 

On his previous excursions to the Dead Circle, Spike had mostly walked the edges. His first foray inside had been a brutal lesson in why ghostly spirits make for bad opponents, and the subsequent short trips didn’t fare any better. Still, he had kept trying; it was obvious that whatever was wrong with the place had its root here.

Not wanting to be taken by surprise when the Slayer was present, he stopped every few minutes and strained to hear the telltale low humming the spirits emitted. Unfortunately this was made very difficult by the fact that Buffy needed to breathe. 

The sound of her regular pulling of air in and out of her nose wasn’t noisy at all; to a regular human it would barely even register, but to him it was crystal clear and distracting. He couldn’t very well ask her to stop, so he kept his mouth shut and tried harder to listen for the humming. Maybe the bastards would think her easier prey than him and go for her first. A vamp could wish.

“Not long now,” he told her, more to hear something other than the stifling silence than anything else. She murmured something in reply.

As they walked on, he shifted his fingers around the hilt of the sword, gripping it tighter. The hairs at the back of his neck had been erect ever since they crossed into the circle, and all his senses were buzzing at him, telling him to flee. It was deeply unsettling; nothing had ever made him feel this way before. Vampires weren’t scared, period. It just didn’t work that way.

They must be getting close to the center of it all, he figured. The absence of the spirits was gnawing at him. He wondered whether they were simply waiting for an opportune moment when he let his guard down or if perhaps they planned to not show at all and make him look like a grade A nutcase. That would be just the ticket, wouldn’t it?

Then, suddenly, Buffy gave a startled yelp. He immediately spun around, sword raised. Of course the buggers had snuck up behind them while he was distracted.

In his previous encounters there’d never been this many. There had to be at least a dozen of them, fanning out into a half circle and probably aiming to enclose them completely. A couple of them appeared to be missing campers, but most were dressed in the tattered remains of typical Native American garb, with feathers or beads tied to the long black hair framing their hideous faces. The campers’ clothes were less worn but showed signs of tearing, as if by large claws, and had dark stains of what must have once been blood. 

He knew exactly how they had died. The injuries he’d walked away with that first night would have killed a normal human and, he was certain, made him one of them. Thank fuck for being dead already.

Each and every one of them wore a grimace of either pain or rage. It was hard to tell the difference. Their bodies were speckled a blueish grey color and seemed to emit a soft glow, helpfully making them stand out in the near pitch black night. Their eyes were all the same – empty, unseeing black sockets.

“Watch out,” he called in warning before throwing himself at the two on the left, slashing at them with the sword despite knowing it’d slide right through them. 

Buffy’s Slayer instincts kicked in as soon as her surprise wore off, and she began to dance beside him, swinging her axe with the grace of a ballet dancer. It took her only a few seconds to groan in frustration. “It’s useless, it does nothing to them.”

“Told you,” he replied, and being able to say it gave him a small bit of satisfaction. “Can’t hurt them.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” she called back, mid-swing through one of the spirits heads.

“They’ll shift, and we’ll run.”

“What do you mean shift?” she asked, letting fly a few throwing knives and swinging the axe again with a grunt of effort.

He didn’t bother to explain; it was already happening. The female in front of him shimmered and seemed to flicker in and out of existence for a few seconds, like a bad TV signal. Moments later, her body changed shape and turned into that of a black bear. Behind her, another spirit changed into a large, sleek cat with teeth rivaling his own.

“Werewolves?” Buffy cried out, then after a beat: “Were-bears? What the hell?”

“This is the running part,” he said and grabbed for her hand, pulling her along and aiming for the only one that hadn’t shifted yet. They ran straight through him. Spirit insides were like icy winds going through him to the very bone; he’d never felt so cold. 

“Gah!” Buffy cried out. The sensation didn’t sit well with her either, it seemed.

They dashed madly through the dead trees, hands still linked. He didn’t know her excuse, but his was the comfort of her warm skin. She was so achingly alive in this place full of death and darkness. He didn’t want to let go, irrationally scared that he’d lose her and never find his way back.

How long they ran for he had no idea. From experience he knew that the spirits were hard to lose; they ran with supernatural speed, able to keep up with him fairly easily. The problem was that they weren’t running towards safety, but closer and closer to the middle of the Dead Circle. 

He didn’t have much time to worry about that, though. The trees became sparse, then there weren’t any at all. On either side of them the earth suddenly gave way to hard rock and he’d barely registered the trap before they were in it. A cliff edge was coming up. With a steep drop. 

Both of them skidded to a halt. The Slayer looked over her shoulder but he knew there was no time to lose. He grabbed her around the middle as she released her remaining knives at the spirit animals chasing them and jumped. She screamed.

Like the opposite of a cat, he twisted them so that he’d hit the ground first, on his back. As long as he wasn’t the unluckiest sod in the universe and landed _just so_ on a tree stump, he’d live. And with his body softening her landing, she’d probably live, too. 

It wasn’t a straight drop. Some two-thirds of the way down he struck a rocky outcropping and spun helplessly, forcing her to take the next impact against her shoulder. He clung to her fiercely and felt her cling back just as desperately, her hands clawing at his duster and at his hair for anything to hold on to as they alternately fell and rolled the rest of the way down before finally, mercifully, coming to a stop. 

His body screamed in pain as he struggled to assess their situation. She’d ended up underneath him, which was everything he could have hoped for. She was still breathing but unconscious, another bonus. 

He lifted up on his arms (noting with a grimace of pain that the right one was broken in at least two places) and tore her dark grey jacket off her limp body. With some effort, he spread it out above them and used it to cover both their heads. 

Provided the spirits hadn’t seen them yet, they should be safe. In the night and against the black of the foul smelling ground, her jacket and his duster would keep them hidden from even the keenest of eyes.

Knowing he’d done all he could, Spike gave in to the demands of his body and passed out.

________

 

Warmth. It was the first thing he noticed when he came to, hours later. He was lying on something soft and warm, and everything was dark. He raised his head a little, feeling some sort of cloth brush his cheek before pain in his back made him lower it again so it came to rest back on the soft, warm body beneath him.

He was on the verge of passing out again when the person under him began to moan and squirm. Small hands wormed their way up to his chest and pressed against him. Becoming more alert now, Spike gritted his teeth and raised his head again. The jacket fell to the side and he could see marginally better.

“Buffy?”

Spike blinked as he locked eyes with the Slayer who winced and sucked in a deep breath.

“Spike. Heavy. Can’t breathe,” she stammered.

Recent events slowly came back to him, and he remembered their tumble off the cliff and their unusual, somewhat compromising position… which he was becoming increasingly aware of with every little shimmy she made.

“Spike?” He brought his gaze back from her steadily rising and falling chest to her face at the panicked sound of her voice. Her eyes were darting around, and her breathing had quickened. It was obvious she was struggling to understand where they were and how they’d arrived there. “Spike, what—?”

“We fell. Not a pleasant trip—we both passed out. I had to cover us with your jacket so we wouldn’t be seen. We were completely vulnerable.”

“Oh.” Her voice sounded small, softer than he was used to. “We’re okay, right?”

“Depends on your definition of okay,” he said wryly, raising himself up on his arms, forgetting what a bad idea that would be. “ _Fuck_.”

He collapsed down on her at the shock of pain, making her gasp and wince. He raised his head again and gave her an apologetic look.

“Sorry, luv. Forgot my sodding arm is broken. Didn’t mean to squash you.”

Buffy nodded and swallowed. “Do you, um, think you could get off now?” Her eyes widened. “Get off me! I mean, get up off of me so I can breathe and, um, see how bad the damage is.”

She swallowed hard, and Spike noticed the quickening of her heartbeat. He tilted his head and gave her a leer, ignoring the strain he was putting on his arm and back in favor of adding to her embarrassment—after all, it was one of the few pleasures he had left, what with the truce and all. He wasn’t entirely sure she could see it in the dark but the sharp tone in her voice when she said “Spike!” let him know she’d gotten the gist just fine.

“Sure, pet. Hang on a tick,” he said, smirking in spite of his injuries. Sometimes it was just so easy to get her riled up. He liked her harsher tone, too, he realized. The soft spoken Buffy was one that made him nervous. It was unlike the Slayer he was used to.

He picked himself up and leaned back, putting more weight on his left arm than the right, and felt Buffy stiffen under him as he moved. He shifted to the side intending to roll off her when his crotch came in contact with hers, their respective bodies unintentionally fitting into place. He froze. His eyes widened and so did hers, and they stared at each other in shock.


	6. Chapter 6

She was warm under him. Warm and alive, and he couldn’t prevent his body’s instinctive reaction. Spike gulped, then opened his mouth to speak, desperate to break the tense situation.

What would have come out of his mouth was anyone’s guess, be it an apology or a taunt or even a bad joke. Spike hadn’t a clue. It was one of those times his mouth would have run away with him before he’d thought his words through properly. So it was probably for the best that she cut him off, planting both hands firmly against his chest and shoving him off her where he fell to the side.

Buffy sat up far too quickly as soon as his weight was off her and cried out in pain. Spike had more sense and sat up gingerly. He bit back a curse as his body protested the movement and his many broken bones made themselves known. Once seated, he glanced over to see Buffy holding her left arm and biting her lip to keep from groaning. Her eyes watered slightly as she examined the damage.

“I think I dislocated my shoulder,” she said at last, taking deep breaths. “God, that hurts.”

“Try being the one that hit the ground first,” Spike replied, examining himself and trying not to move too much.

His side felt as though it was on fire, and he was sure he’d suffered more than a couple of cracked ribs; the general area throbbed with pain. Blood oozed from a gash in his head, and his legs felt bruised and sore when he moved them. To top things off, his jeans were muddy and torn, and his coat had suffered several scrapes and tears.

Knowing that her shoulder needed to be taken care of before anything else, he gestured for her to come closer. She seemed to be able to move much better than he at the moment.

“Come here, I’ll set it for you.”

Her only reply was a whimper of pain but she obediently crawled over to him, cradling her left arm and trying all the while not to move it much.

He paused to consider their current limitations and position and frowned when he figured out the best way to sort her out. Teasing her and making her all flustered was one thing, but their bodies actually touching intimately, even if by accident, was different. Sure, he’d fantasized about her, but a fantasy was just that - a fantasy. Making it real was a whole other ballgame.

“Um, you’re gonna have to get in my lap. With your shoulder facing me.”

“You’re joking.”

“‘Fraid not, pet. I can’t move my broken arm much, so this won’t be easy. I need to get a good grip. You have to be close.”

“I don’t believe it,” she mumbled, but she began to crawl over his legs all the same, and he shifted them to give her room. “If you ever tell anyone about this-”

“Likewise,” he assured her.

Once she was sitting in his lap, he did his best to ignore his rapidly growing stiffy and grabbed her shoulder a little too roughly. She yelped in protest.

“Slayer,” he said, voice gruff. “This is gonna hurt, all right? Try not to scream like a girl and alert the spirits.”

He could see her steel herself, face tensing and teeth gritting together while he lifted her arm up until it pointed straight out from the shoulder. Without giving her a warning he yanked hard on her arm, pulling the bone away from the shoulder and allowing it to slide back into its socket again. 

As he’d predicted, they both made grimaces of pain - her from having her dislocation fixed and him from using his broken arm. Neither uttered a sound, though, and once the burning in his arm faded he let out a relieved breath. Now they just had to make it back. Speaking of...

“That your only injury?”

He reassured himself that he was just concerned about how difficult getting back to camp would be. Not like he cared about her at all. Nope. Definitely not that.

“Ow, no. My back is throbbing, my leg’s all screwed up where that were-bear spirit thing took a swipe at me, and I feel like I got run over by a truck.”

“Sounds about right. Here, lemme see.”

He turned her until her back was to him and tried to concentrate on the task at hand and not the way her pert ass was sliding against his now completely hard cock. How she’d not noticed, he had no idea. She could be pretty dim sometimes—there were countless examples of _that_ —but he knew he wasn’t exactly on the small side. 

Quite the contrary, in fact. 

On the other hand, it was probably a good thing that she remained oblivious; she wasn’t the type to be flattered. More the type that would get pissed off, and he really didn’t want to deal with a furious slayer right now.

Buffy hissed as he rolled her shirt up with his good hand and traced his thumb around the wound. She had a nasty scratch on her back that rested in the middle of an angry looking bruise right above her tailbone.

“Is it bad?” she asked.

“Looks like you hit a rock or something. Not gonna lie, it’s gonna hurt like a bitch when you move.”

Buffy shoulders rose and fell as she sighed deeply. “Great. Well, since we’re not getting air lifted out of here I guess I’m going to have to suck it up and walk back, right?”

“Yeah,” Spike said, not relishing the thought any more than she did. “That’s gonna be fun.”

“So we’re stuck somewhere inside the Dead Circle with a bunch of nasty shape-shifting spirits that we can’t hurt. We’re badly injured, and we’re weapon-less. Did I miss anything?”

“Well,” he said, and sighed. “We’re in an area of the woods I’ve never been in before so I’m not entirely sure how we’re going to get out of here and find our way back to camp. Oh, and sunrise is in about three hours, at which time I’ll explode into a pile of dust if we aren’t under cover.” 

And I’ve somehow managed to get really turned on despite it all, he added to himself.

Buffy made a sound somewhat resembling a growl, and Spike gave her a pat on the shoulder in commiseration. He brought his hand back down to the ground where it bumped against something sharp. He glanced down and spotted the culprit—the Slayer’s stake she carried with her at all times.

He picked it up and could smell the trace of blood at its base. Wordlessly he handed it to her. Buffy glanced down at his arm then to the stake. She took it from him and turned it in her hand.

“It’s cracked,” she said with a hint of disappointment.

Spike snorted.

“Cracked? You’re concerned for the stake? That’s the thing that did a number on your back. Surprised you didn’t manage to impale yourself on it.”

Buffy frowned but held onto the stake as she shifted in his lap, turning sideways again. Presumably she’d wanted to be able to face him while talking to him, but it caused her to finally pick up on his arousal. She immediately went into full flail mode, all but jumping off of him and sputtering insults and curses until she’d managed to stand and get a safe distance away from him.

He attempted to stand as well, but had second thoughts when his legs wobbled and a wave of dizziness swept over him.

“Give me one good reason not to dust you,” she challenged, raising the cracked but probably still fully functional stake in a threatening manner.

“Look,” he said, tired, sore and really not wanting to have this argument right now. “I’m a man. You were squirming. First when you were... under me and then when you were in my lap. I can’t help it. Nothing personal, I swear. Any man would have. Can we just move on?”

Despite his rationalising she didn’t seem too impressed.

“It’s as traumatizing for me as it is for you, I assure you,” he went on, and adjusted his jeans to make the bulge less obvious. “It’s not like I want you.”

In hindsight he should have realised that this was not the right thing to say, but his head was growing increasingly fuzzy, and it was getting harder to ignore the considerable aches and pains of his body.

“Right, because I’m completely undesirable.”

Thankfully, the warning bells in his head chimed loud enough to alert him to the tone of her voice and he backpedaled quickly. “That’s not what I said.”

“Oh, so you do want me?” She raised an eyebrow and took a firmer grip on the stake.

“To drain and kill, yeah, but we’ve got this truce thing going on unfortunately,” he said, snarling at her. Offense was the best defense after all. “Maybe another time, love.”

“God, you’re such an ass,” she said, and made a disgusted face. “If you didn’t look absolutely pathetic right now...”

“Yeah, yeah, you’d stake me and dance in the dust like it was confetti. Got it.”

She huffed and blew hair out of her face, but thankfully appeared to be willing to put it behind them. If only he wasn’t injured, he’d take great pleasure in tackling her to the ground and- on second thought, scratch that. Better to not get himself any more riled up than he already was and focus on getting to safety; the clock was ticking for his continued existence.

Spike shook himself to get rid of the mental image of pinning her and looked up at her retreating back in bewilderment. Buffy had tottered away a few feet to kick at something lying in the dirt. She was still clutching the blasted broken piece of wood in her hand like a talisman to ward off anyone that might, God forbid, get horny in her presence. 

“Wonderful. My axe is broken. The handle snapped. It’s useless like this,” she said, toeing the head of the axe and the short stump of a handle that remained. “So we really are screwed for weapons. Unless your sword is around?”

Spike didn’t take his eyes off the stake for a long time, but when he did, he met her gaze with an irritated glare. “Sorry, was too busy holding onto you to keep a good grip on it. Pretty sure it fell further down than we did. Good look finding it in all that scrub,” he said, jerking his head further down the slope to where the ground broke off in another, smaller cliff that ended in foul smelling rotted vegetation.

“What’s eating you _now_?” Her eyebrows drew together as she stared down at him.

“You’re still gonna carry that bloody thing around,” he said, and gestured at the stake. “I just saved your life.”

“Is that what you call it? Hurling yourself off a cliff and bringing me with you isn’t the best plan ever. Besides we need some kind of weapon so we’re not completely defenceless.”

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” Spike stood shakily and with effort so they were on even ground again. “We’re in no shape to fight and a pointy bit of wood isn’t going to do much harm to Yogi Bear and his pals. Not to mention, we’re in a bloody forest. A stake isn’t the hardest thing to come by out here.”

“It has sentimental value. Now are we going to keep bickering or are we going to get out of this place before the sun comes up?”

Spike struggled to rein in his temper. Turning his back on her he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Why hadn’t he taken a bite out of her when he had the chance? She’d been lying there under him, completely vulnerable. He’d be healing right now with her blood in his veins.

“Spike?” She sounded wary, and her caution helped his mood.

Spike turned back to her in game face and took great satisfaction out of seeing her flinch backwards before regaining her composure. She glared at him as he approached and raised her good hand with the stake until he stopped just outside her personal space and held out his hand. She frowned down at it and back at him until he sighed and reached out to grab hold of hers, feeling it tighten around the stake under his skin.

“This way,” he said, tugging on her hand and leading her forward, fighting against wooziness and walking much slower than he’d like, both for his sake and hers.

“I thought you said you didn’t know where you were going out here?”

“I don’t exactly, but I know where we came from.” He nodded up at the cliff. “We need to find a way back up there at least and then figure out which direction camp is in.”

“You think those things are gone?”

“No idea. I can’t sense them but they could have just wandered off to a different part of the circle. We need to be careful. If they sense us we’re in serious shit.”

“What’s with the vamp face?”

“Helps me to see, remember? Since both our torches are gone and even if we found them they’d probably be broken, we’ll have to make do with me guiding you as best I can.”

“I didn’t even think about that.” She looked at the ground as though embarrassed.

Spike didn’t have the energy to insult her for having shitty priorities under the circumstances and just kept walking. Eventually, he found what looked like a passable trail upwards, and one that they could hopefully manage to climb without too much difficulty.

He heard Buffy’s intake of breath when she looked up the hill and the disappointed yet resigned sigh. He gave her hand a small squeeze and began leading the way up, letting go when he needed to hold onto a tree or rock to balance and haul himself up and stopping to turn and help her.

It took them a while, but eventually they made it. Once at the top, Buffy was out of breath and even Spike was panting from exertion. He felt queasy, which was never a good sign for a vampire. Buffy had clearly strained her back judging from the grimace she made when she tried to straighten up after leaning against a tree to catch her breath. The smell of her blood was thick in the air around him, and he looked at her torn jeans and the claw marks that had shredded through denim and skin, leaving large bloody streaks behind.

“You think you’ll be able to make it?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the claw marks.

“Will you?”

Spike looked down and let out a breathless chuckle. “Guess I’m going to have to. Not eager to punch my ticket just yet.”

“Then I’ll make it,” Buffy panted. She walked over and, switching her stake to rest loosely in her left hand, took hold of his hand in hers and jerked her head at the woods behind him.

“I think that’s where we came from. I can see a scrap of my shirt on that bush.”

Spike turned and saw she was right. A patch of tattered material did indeed hang on the thorns of a dead bush up ahead.

“Good work, pet.” He gave her an approving look. “Let’s get moving. We’re running out of time.”

Buffy nodded and followed wordlessly as he led the way. Spike tried to hide it, not wanting to add to the stress pouring off her, but he was anxious that even if they started out re-tracing their steps, the trail would go cold soon. If he couldn’t find his way to the outer edges of the Circle they could be lost in here for a while… at least until the sun came up—if the spirits even let them live that long.

Time dragged on, and they still hadn’t found their way back to the untainted part of the woods. Spike was exhausted and knew Buffy was, too. He wouldn’t give up, but the chances of them making it back to camp were looking slimmer and slimmer. He felt Buffy stumble behind him and turned around.

“You okay? Don’t quit on me now, Slayer, we—”

“Shh.”

Spike frowned. Buffy wasn’t looking at him. Instead she was focused on the woods to their left. Spike turned his attention in that direction and straightened when he saw what she’d been mesmerised by: a huge grey wolf. It stood amongst the trees watching them calmly. Spike felt his grip on Buffy’s hand tighten.

“I don’t think it’s a spirit,” she said, softly, drawing Spike’s attention again.

“What gives you that idea then?”

“Well for one, it would have attacked by now, right?” she said and glanced at him before facing the wolf again. “It doesn’t have anything to fear from us if it’s one of them because we can’t touch it. What if it’s _that_ wolf? The one that’s been howling every night?”

Spike paused, contemplating the idea. “What if it is?” he said at last. “Probably just another angry spirit trying to mess with us. Told you I got a bite taken out of me remember?”

“By this wolf?” Buffy asked.

Spike scowled at her but took a second look at the wolf. Now that he actually thought about it, it didn’t seem like the same animal, nor had it threatened them yet. It was possible he’d just run into one of the were-wolves last time after hearing the howl. It’d be just his luck after all. Come to think of it, maybe this one had been trying to warn him.

“All right, maybe it wasn’t this one. It could still be dangerous.”

“I don’t think so. You said it never came close to the Circle right? What if it’s not evil? Maybe it’s trying to help.”

Spike gave her and the wolf a dubious look. “Help? Help us get torn to shreds, you mean?”

Buffy didn’t have a chance to respond as a loud howl broke the silence. It sounded different up close… so much more unnatural and yet, strangely calming in such a silent and threatening place. Odd that it had seemed so ominous before when they’d heard it back at the campsite, yet they found comfort in it now.

The wolf ceased howling and studied them before trotting off a ways into the forest. It stopped to look back at them, waiting patiently.

“I think it wants us to follow it.” Buffy grinned excitedly. She appeared to be getting a second wind back.

“Follow it?” Spike asked. “When did you become the overgrown dog whisperer?”

“Come on,” she said, pulling him along and ignoring his protests.

Ahead of them, the wolf turned and walked on before stopping to glance back at them, waiting again. Spike sighed. Looked as though the Slayer was right. So they were entrusting their lives to White Fang? Spike didn’t see another option but it didn’t stop him wondering if they’d find themselves surrounded by hungry, unnatural animals before the night was over.

Bloody spirits.

__________

 

Buffy had learned to trust her instincts long ago, and right now they were telling her that if they wanted a chance in hell of making it out of this damned place alive, they needed to follow the wolf. She had no idea how she knew this; it was just another weird factor in her life, like the tingling sensation at the back of her neck that told her an old and strong vampire was _right behind her_. She held back a sigh of relief when Spike stopped muttering his objections, then frowned as she noticed he walked with a limp. This was going to be slow.

Despite their past, she hoped they’d make it back in time. She didn’t want him to die like this. She was okay with him dying in general, she told herself, just not right now. After all, he had probably saved their lives even if his actions had been rash, extremely painful and ridiculously stupid. 

What had followed had been bleached from her brain and was never to be thought of again. Or so she hoped.

“Look,” she cried out in delight at the sight of the ground beginning to give way from all black to black scattered with patches of lighter colour. “We’re getting closer.”

“Wonderful,” he replied, but without enthusiasm. She glanced back at him and saw that his limp was worse. It occurred to her that he might not have been entirely truthful about his injuries.

On the other hand, she hadn’t either, really. Giving an accurate rundown of your weaknesses to your former mortal enemy and current reluctant ally was not the brightest of ideas. She’d skipped mentioning the way her head throbbed, the dizziness she had to keep fighting back and the black spots threatening to cloud her vision. She’d felt like this once before, when the Master had drunk from her and caused her to inadvertently drown. She must have lost a fair amount of blood, and chances were high that she might pass out again soon. With his limp and broken bones there was no way Spike would be able to carry her, so she soldiered onward, never taking her eyes off the large wolf. 

The crossing of the borderlands was uneventful. Hearing the birdsong again was a double edged sword; on one hand she was thrilled to hear any normal noises at all, but on the other, it underlined the necessity of finding shelter. The sun would be up very soon.

“Do you think you can walk faster?” she asked, her voice belying her concern.

He squeezed her hand weakly. “I’ll try.”

And he did rally some, but she saw the way his jaw line tightened. He was clearly in a lot of pain.

The wolf gave a bark of encouragement ahead of them, as if trying to tell them it would all be alright. She smiled at it. Was smiling at wolves a good thing or a bad thing? She vaguely remembered reading about how showing teeth was a sign of aggression to some animals and was not recommended.

After a while of walking in silence, she began to hear a strange noise. It repeated at odd intervals and sounded a bit like a cat wheezing. She tried to ignore it, but it wouldn’t stop and eventually she spoke up. “Spike?”

“Yeah,” he replied in a clipped voice. The strange sound got louder then faded again.

“Can you hear that?”

“Yeah,” he said again and the same thing happened. The wheezing got louder then went back to normal. “S’my lungs.”

“Your lungs?”

“Punctured.”

“But you don’t need to breathe,” she said. Now that he’d told her she recognised the sound of air being expelled, however.

“M’not in control of that at the moment,” he said, struggling to speak and walk at the same time. Deciding that finding out what he meant could wait until they were safe, she stopped questioning him and focused on putting one foot in front of the other instead.

“Almost there,” she said, hoping to sound reassuring. The wolf gave another short bark. She decided to interpret it as agreeing with her.

Spike’s silence was his only reply.

The wolf led them true in the end. She nearly freaked out when it suddenly disappeared from sight, but when she and Spike caught up to the place where she’d last seen it, she could see wooden planks through the trees in front of her. The cabin. Thank God.

The sky had been pinkening steadily for a while by then, and she’d expected the first rays of the sun to break across the horizon at any moment. She’d even begun to wonder what it would be like to hold his hand as he dusted, so sure that she was about to find out.

“You’re safe,” she told him. “It’s the cabin!”

“Wonderful,” he muttered in reply, not even lifting his head. She’d pretty much been dragging him along the last fifteen minutes or so, and she was hobbling herself. They would absolutely not have made it much further.

Steering them around the corner of the cabin and to the front, she immediately looked over towards the tent, spotting a shape in the flickering light of the campfire.

“We’re back,” she yelled, but didn’t stop to see which one of her friends was up as the sun chose that moment to, for lack of a better word, shine. Spike yelped, and she pulled him with her inside. They nearly fell to the floor and would have, had she not caught a hand on the windowsill and managed to steady herself. His full weight landed on her, however, and pain shot through her torso and down her bad leg. She cried out.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, but he seemed unable to muster the strength to stand, and slid inelegantly down her side to the floor, forming a heap of broken vampire at her feet.

Just then, Willow appeared in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth wider.

“Oh my God, Buffy, what happened?”

“Gotta get him downstairs,” she replied. “If I bend over, I won’t get back up again, do you think you could…?”

Willow gaped like a fish for a moment before her Resolve Face broke through. Buffy had never been happier to see it.

Together, they got Spike upright somehow. His head lolling against her shoulder revealed that he’d passed out on her, and she understood that he must have been holding on by sheer willpower until now. They made their way precariously down the staircase to the dank basement. After her experience that night, it might as well have been the grandest of hotel rooms, she was so damn happy to see it.

Willow let Spike slide down her body much like he had done on Buffy’s until he came to a rest on the floor near his bag. It felt like weeks since he’d caught her snooping in it.

“Wills,” she said, watching the black spots that had been tormenting her for the past few hours grow larger. “I think I’m-“

____________

 

Spike awoke to a world of marginally less pain than he’d been in before. Cautiously optimistic, he opened his eyes and blinked a few times.

“Red,” he tried to say, to show that he recognised the girl looking down at him, but there was something blocking his throat. It hurt. He turned to the side, causing something to fall off his head, and coughed. Or tried to. Whatever had obstructed his windpipe came up with some effort and he felt better.

“Red,” he tried again.

“Shh,” she soothed and picked up what had fallen and put it back on his forehead. A wet cloth. He resisted the instinct to tell her that vampires didn’t get fevers, which was a good thing as he came to realize that she’d been using it to wipe away blood from his face and head.

“You’re a mess,” she informed him. He couldn’t agree more. “We didn’t dare move Buffy until she woke up, which was a couple of hours ago. She’s in the tent now, Giles is looking after her.”

“Sorry you got stuck with me, pet,” he said and smiled.

“I don’t mind,” she replied softly.

He turned his head again to check on what had been lodged in his throat. On the floor beside him was a puddle of dark, coagulated blood with a large, solid clot of more blood and tissue sitting in the middle. Great. Had he been human he would have choked to death on it, no doubt. He had no idea what part of his body it had come from but hazarded a guess at the lungs. 

“So what’s the verdict, Florence?” he asked.

“You’ll live.”

That made him chuckle, which hurt like a bitch. “Do I remember correctly the part where my lungs were punctured?”

“Yep. But I got that sorted. One of your ribs was sorta stuck in there so I got it out and bandaged it all up. It was wheezing and being really gross. Giles said that was all I had to do.” She hesitated. “I don’t really know how vampires work. I mean, with healing and broken bones and stuff.”

“It mostly takes care of itself, don’t worry about it,” he said.

He closed his eyes and attempted to form a status report for his body. Chest? Painful. Especially on the right side, probably where aforementioned rib had decided to play hide and seek inside one of his lungs. Head? Throbbing with pain at the side and top, most likely some pretty bad cuts. Stomach and hips? Sort of okay. The queasiness that had worried him more than he liked to admit had faded considerably. Legs? Felt like they’d been through a meat grinder. Arms? They seemed fairly okay, broken bones aside, so he lifted them gingerly to where he could see them and noticed for the first time that he wasn’t wearing any clothes.

Grunting, he lifted his head just enough to look down the length of his body. He was naked, but covered up to his waist by… a sleeping bag? When he let his head fall back, he realized it was resting against something soft. Not a pillow but something else, likely a pile of clothes or similar. 

It felt strange to be cared for. He hadn’t had anyone give a shit about him for a long time. 

“Thanks,” he muttered. 

“For what?” Willow asked, sounding confused.

“You know.” He gestured with a hand but wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to convey. “This. Me. Everything.”

She looked smug as she pushed his hand back down to rest. “Don’t mention it. This is how us good guys operate, you know. We help. Even you.”

“Smartass,” he said, but he was smiling. She laughed.


	7. Chapter 7

“Spike?”

“Yeah, Florence?”

“How do you… um. You know, feed? Cause you obviously don’t have any blood here, and even if you had it would go bad unless it was kept cold and hey, no refrigeration! And obviously, uh, you being a vampire, you kinda need blood to live, or, well, function anyway, and I’m guessing you need it to heal as well, probably, and we didn’t bring any, except what we’ve got on the inside of course, but we kinda prefer it on the inside. Then again, I suppose you do, too, technically, and-”

Spike stared at Willow in fascination at first, but when the steady stream of words appeared to have no intention of stopping, he reached up and put two fingers against her lips, silencing her. She broke out in an intense blush.

“I’m okay,” he said. “Ate a couple of days ago. Animal blood.”

“You hunt animals?”

“Not usually.”

“Oh. Right.”

There was a bit of an awkward silence, but she rallied bravely. “I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised, huh.”

“No, not really. Vampires eat humans, that’s how it goes.”

She nodded in agreement, then changed the topic on him. “Buffy said you saved her life.”

“Might’ve,” he admitted, then opted for making a joke out of it. He wasn’t really comfortable with the topic, not having had the chance to fully sort it out in his own head yet. “Do I get a gold star for that?”

“Yes.” She laughed again. “And bonus points for making Giles polish his glasses for more than five minutes straight. He doesn’t know what to think anymore.”

“Yeah, well, not planning on making a habit out of it so he can keep his pants on.” He paused for a moment then shot her a dirty look. “Speaking of pants, which one of you got the joy of finding out that I don’t wear underwear?”

Her head dropped and she stared intently at the floor. “Me.”

“Hope I didn’t ruin you for all other men.”

“I’m dating a werewolf. I’ve got no complaints.” She refused to look at him. 

“Good for you, pet.” He smirked. “Never tried it myself, but I’ve heard the stories.”

“I think I should go tell Buffy and Giles that you’re awake and feeling just like your old self.” 

When she stood, she finally lifted her head, and to his surprise revealed a small smile. It occurred to him that the little witch possibly had a side to her that her friends rarely, if ever, saw. Whoever the werewolf was, he was a lucky man. 

“You do that.” He waited until she was halfway up the stairs. “But don’t tell the Slayer, yeah? Wouldn’t want her to compare me and Angel. He tends to come up… short.”

Her laughter rang in his ears.

_________

 

Buffy felt much better with clean clothes on. She was wearing a pair of loose pants for comfort, though her leg still stung badly where the cloth had rubbed against the skin when pulling them on. Giles and Willow had seen to her shoulder, and she was thankful she’d passed out for a few hours down in the basement to escape the pain for a while. Her back still ached, and she couldn’t bear for anyone to touch the wound. As a result, she walked stiffly and slowly, picking each step carefully in an attempt to avoid aggravating it.

Giles had insisted she spend most of the day resting, not that she would have done much else anyway. She’d lain on her stomach in her sleeping bag for most of it, drifting in and out of sleep, and playing with her cell phone whenever she was awake. 

Upon waking up and checking it the first time, she’d been pretty surprised to see she had several missed calls from Xander. She’d tried to call back, but the reception kept cutting out on her so she gave up. Instead, she played the snake game and managed to beat her own high score twice. 

It was late in the day before she decided to venture to the cabin to check on Spike. Giles still had a hundred unanswered questions about what had occurred in the woods last night.

He and Willow were worried sick when there’d been no sign of either Buffy or Spike with sunrise on the way. Willow informed her that Giles had blamed himself for allowing Buffy to go with Spike, afraid the vampire had attacked his Slayer once he had her isolated and distracted. Buffy wasn’t sure whether she was touched by his concern or offended that he thought she’d be taken unawares by Spike after all the times she’d proven just how distrustful of the vamp she really was.

And yet he’d saved her life. It was weird to say. It was weird to even think about. Spike had _saved her life_. There was just so much wrong with that sentence. Giles wanted to know why, but Buffy had as much of a clue as he did. She still wasn’t sure she wanted to dwell on it. It was a little too much to take in along with everything else.

If they were back in Sunnydale, maybe she’d have a clearer idea of what to do. They were on unfamiliar territory right now, and she didn’t know which way was up. A truce with Spike she could accept and understand. She’d never thought there’d be another truce, but she could handle the fact that there was one. Last night—last night was to be filed under ‘things to be contemplated at a later date’. Right now they needed to focus on these spirits and figure out a way to stop them. There’d be plenty of time to think about the rest on the car ride home.

Willow was just leaving the cabin as Buffy walked up. Concerned (purely because she owed him, not for any other reason) Buffy had suggested that someone be around to keep a close eye on Spike to make sure he was recovering okay. After all, they needed all the help they could get, not that Spike exactly counted as help. Again—save for later.

“Hey Wills. How’s he doing?”

“He’s awake. He seems okay, just really beat. I asked him about blood, and he said he’d eaten a few days ago.”

“Eaten what?” Buffy frowned suspiciously.

“Animals. Taking what he could get out here.”

“Right.” And that was all Buffy needed to be reminded that Spike was still as evil as ever. He had to take what he could get and work with what he had. He was here because of the ring, and as soon as he had it he’d be gone… if she let him get away. He’d saved her because he needed her, and he’d never have made it back last night if she hadn’t been there.

“Buffy?”

Buffy realized she’d drifted away for a second and smiled at Willow. “I’m okay. You should go tell Giles. I’ll go down and stay with him for a while. Let him know what we discussed.”

“Okay. Giles is going to start lunch so I need to bring him the food anyway.” Willow held up a few tins and packets she’d taken from the food storage. “He wants to do some research afterward, too, so it’ll be a busy day.”

Buffy gave her friend another smile and sidestepped so Willow could head over to Giles. As long as their busy day was quieter than her and Spike’s busy night, she was perfectly okay with it.

Entering the cabin, Buffy winced as she had to maneuver around the door and stifled a whimper when she straightened again, her hands automatically seeking her back though she was loath to put pressure on the skin. When the wave of pain passed, she walked further into the cabin. The basement door was open, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste at the black gloom beyond; the sight reminding her far too much of the Dead Circle.

Hesitating, she paused outside the bathroom for a moment before she decided to go take a peek in the mirror and see if she looked as much of a wreck as she felt. She entered the small room and allowed the old creaky door to swing shut behind her. The cracked mirror was dusty and covered in grime but she and Willow had cleaned a large area in the middle so they could use it. She approached the mirror and rubbed at a purple bruise on her right temple. She had a scratch on the opposite cheek and another, smaller, blue bruise on her chin as well. Leaning closer, she tilted her head from side to side, seeking any more injuries.

She twisted to check her back and spotted a cut by her left shoulder blade just above the hem of her tank top, another bruise on her collarbone, and a small bump she couldn’t see but could feel at the side of her head underneath her hair. Buffy pouted at the mirror, knowing that even with Slayer healing it would take at least another day for all the visible wounds to fade away. She didn’t even want to think about her back. Willow had promised to look into some healing spells and recommend a few to Giles that might help speed up the process.

Buffy patted the area around the bruise on her forehead again, wincing as she did so. It was just then, out of the corner of her eye, that she caught movement in the mirror. She turned her gaze to the right and saw dark red stains appearing as though by magic on the wall, reflected in the cracked glass of the mirror.

Her breath caught in her throat as the stains gradually formed into letters. Her hands clutched the sink in front of her as she watched the letters form into a single word. LEAVE. She spun to stare at the wall but there was nothing there. Turning slowly back to the mirror she took a step back. The word was still there, glaring back at her from the glass. LEAVE.

Buffy swallowed and stared at the dark red writing. All of a sudden the mirror cracked and shattered, the shards flying outwards towards her. She screamed and ducked, holding her arms above her head for protection from the lethal glass. Everything fell silent and cautiously, heart pounding, she peeked out from under her arms. She let them fall to her sides and straightened as she stared at the mirror. It was intact except for that same original crack across the face. There writing was gone.

“Get a hold of yourself. It’s just a trick. The spirits are trying to screw with you,” she told herself, and felt foolish for allowing them to spook her like that.

After a moment to compose herself, she walked up to the mirror and touched the glass. It was as solid as ever. She stepped back again, sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Suddenly there was a creaking noise and her gaze darted up to the mirror again. 

The bathroom door was opening behind her. 

She held her breath, hoping Willow or Giles would speak or poke their heads in and announce themselves. The door continued to open with a long, mournful creak to reveal an empty hallway. 

No one was there.

“No.” She refused to be scared by any more parlor tricks.

She spun round quickly, intending to leave like the writing wanted, when she was met with a pale figure blocking the doorway. She jumped, let out a startled shout and reached for the sink behind her to steady herself. The figure in the doorway teetered back a bit when she shouted, as startled as she was. Buffy willed her heart to slow down as recognition set in.

“Spike.” She instantly felt relieved and even more foolish for acting so skittish. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. It’s polite to at least say something to announce your presence when you don’t have a reflection you know.”

Spike looked confused for a second before realization dawned. “Oh, right. Sorry. I never had to really think about that before.”

“It’s okay. I was already jumpy. I should have sensed you.” Buffy relaxed with a sigh. “What are you doing in here anyway?”

“I heard you. You seemed afraid—panicked,” he amended at her offended look. “I thought you might be in trouble.”

“I’m fine. I just saw something in the mirror. Seems our spirit friends are less than happy about our visit last night. They’re on the offensive. Though if it’s just messages in mirrors we should be okay.”

Spike frowned in concern, glancing over her to the mirror as though the cracked glass would offer a repeat performance. “Even so, if they’re on the offensive it means they’re getting closer, and that’s not something we want. If those things reach the camp or the lake we may as well pack up and go home because we can’t fight them, and your pals will be in real danger if they get attacked.”

“I know. Listen, I talked to Giles about what happened and—Spike, are you okay?”

“’M fine.” Spike swayed on his feet. “Just not fully healed yet, so I—” He fell back against the door frame, almost sinking to the ground until Buffy grabbed him and made him lean on her for support, gritting her teeth at the strain it put on her back.

“You’re hurt.” He tried to pull away, but Buffy held firm, securing one arm around his waist.

“So are you. You shouldn’t have climbed those stairs on your—are you wearing sweatpants?” She focused on his legs, covered in the loose fitting grey sweatpants that had caught her attention when she glanced down to watch their footing.

“Belong to the Watcher. Your little witch friend left them for me since there was no chance of me getting jeans on in my current state.”

“I know the feeling.” She refused to dwell on her Watcher providing her mortal enemy with a spare pair of sleepwear; seeing Spike in anything other than his trademark garb was freaky enough already. “You’re about to collapse, and I don’t want to try dragging you downstairs again by myself. Hang on.”

Buffy walked Spike out of the bathroom and into the hall where she had him lean against the wall and sink down to a sitting position, his legs sprawled out in front of him.

“I’ll get Giles and he can help.”

Spike grabbed hold of her arm before she could turn to go.

“It can wait. You were saying something about the Watcher. He got a plan for these spirits?”

Buffy chewed on her lip, thinking she should still get Giles, but eventually sank to her knees in front of the vampire. He let go of her arm and waited expectantly.

“It’s clear we can’t fight these guys.”

Spike nodded.

“Crystal.”

“So Willow suggested we try and communicate with them instead. Find out what they want, why they went evil. The Manatee—”

“Manitou,” Spike corrected.

“Whatever. Said they were corrupted, in pain, right? So something’s causing it. She talked about a great evil breaking free of its bonds.”

“So you reckon talking to them might give us an idea what’s out there—what’s corrupting them and tell us where to fight it.”

“Exactly. We figure out what’s at the root of the problem and maybe we can fight it instead. Kill the source and we should manage to appease the spirits. If they’re already corrupted then it means they know something about this great evil—they’re connected somehow. It’s our best shot.”

“I’m with you there, pet, but what exactly makes you lot think those things are going to be very talkative? They want us dead. I don’t see them sitting down for a friendly chat just because we ask nice.”

“Well, that’s why we won’t exactly be communicating with the ones that chased us off a cliff.”

Spike raised an eyebrow in silent question. Buffy met his gaze and waited, practically seeing the wheels turning in his head before he blinked and sighed deeply.

“The wolf.”

Buffy nodded. “The wolf. Now you stay here while I go get Giles.”

“Buffy,” Spike called after her. She paused to look at him. “Don’t go being too nice to me. We’re not friends, remember? We finish this, I’m taking my ring and leaving.”

She studied him, seeing the seriousness written all over his face.

“I remember. And I’m not being nice. You’re a fighter, and we could use another one of those if we’re going to go up against this thing. That’s all.”

He seemed content with that, and Buffy turned to go. It was only when she was nearing the tent and watched Giles stir something in a pot while Willow read aloud from some book that Buffy faltered. Something was off. He had called her by name instead of just ‘Slayer’. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. 

Oh well. Another thing to be filed under ‘later’.

_________

 

After dinner (more bread and soup, thickened with pieces of sausage that Giles had cooked on his little gas burner thingy), Buffy’s cell phone rang. It was her mother. She brightened at first, happy to be reminded of the world outside of the creepy woods, but it faltered quickly. There were bound to be questions about how they were doing and Buffy hated lying to her mother. 

“Mom!” she greeted loudly, so Willow and Giles would hear and know who it was.

“Hello dear, I just wanted to call and let you know that Xander came by, asking for you.”

“Xander?” Buffy’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But he’s not supposed to be home.”

“Well, he is. I told him you were off camping and that I wasn’t sure when you’d be back, but that I’d pass on the message that he’d been here.”

“Uh, thanks.” She chewed on her lip. That would explain all the missed calls. But Xander was supposed to be on a Grand Adventure to find himself. Why was he home again already? She hoped nothing bad had happened. 

“Oh, Buffy, could you put Spike on for me?”

“Spike? Why do you want to talk to Spike?” Regardless of her surprise, she got up and began heading towards the cabin. Arguing with Joyce was usually not very effective; Buffy had extensive experience in that area.

“Just want to say hi,” her mother said airily, as if catching up with her vampire friends was perfectly normal and happened all the time. 

Wait, friends? Buffy shook her head to straighten her thoughts. Watching a movie together and sharing a bowl of nachos did not make them friends.

“And I wanted to let him know that I took him up on some of his suggestions for the gallery,” Joyce went on. “And he was spot on regarding the Romanticism painting I described to him. It did turn out to be a genuine Jean Rouppert.”

Definitely _not_ friends that definitely did _not_ have conversations about art.

“Hang on, mom.” Buffy ducked through the cabin doorway. “He might be sleeping still, it hasn’t gone dark yet. He’s in the basement, and there definitely won’t be reception down there, so I’ve got to put the phone down. Let me go and check quickly.”

“All right, dear.”

She left the cell phone on the windowsill, hoping the call wouldn’t be cut off before she could get back and hurried down the stairs as fast as her still-very-sore leg would allow her. “Spike?” she called out, hoping he’d be asleep so she could bury the insane idea of her mother and Spike getting chummy and never think about it ever again.

“Yeah,” he replied from somewhere on the floor. She’d forgotten to bring a flashlight and her eyes weren’t used to the dark, making her blind.

“Uh, mom wants to talk to you.” She made a face at her own words. “On the phone. It’s upstairs, but if you’re not strong enough-” 

“Joyce?” She heard the rustling of leather. “Be there in a minute.”

“Right. Do you need any help getting up the stairs?” 

Despite not being able to see anything, she _knew_ he was giving her an offended look.

“Never mind. Don’t want to step on your precious masculine pride.”

“Says the girl who shrieks like a horror movie blonde while alone in a bathroom,” he spat back.

“It was the spirits, you asshole.”

“Don’t need you to be my crutch, bitch.”

Secretly, she was glad that they’d returned to their usual status quo and smiled to herself. At least one thing was normal again around here. 

Unfortunately it was not to last. As soon as they’d made it upstairs, she was treated to one half of what must be a good contender for the weirdest conversation ever.

“Joyce,” he greeted, his voice filled with a warmth she hadn’t heard him use since Drusilla was around. “How are you?”

She wandered into the bedroom cum storage room, pretending not to be listening in.

“Been better, but you know how it goes. It’s not _really_ saving the world unless you get some cuts and bruises to show for it. I’ll be fine. Your daughter and her friends even bandaged up the worst of it.”

Snorting, she hunkered by the rucksacks and opened one to rummage in it.

“No, Buffy’s been great, she hasn’t tried to kill me for at least eight hours.”

Oh joy. And there was the use of her name again, making her shudder with the strangeness of it. 

“I’ll tell her, don’t worry.” Pause. “Yes.” Pause. “Oh really? That’s fantastic, I’m happy for you!”

Much to her amazement, he did genuinely sound happy about whatever it was. Probably that painting or whatever.

“No, not at all. It was my pleasure.”

She held up a box of dry pancake mix and made a face at it, as though she was offended at its calorie count. 

“Of course I will.”

There was a grin in his voice, she was sure of it. What would be next? Her mom and Spike sharing inside jokes and laughing? This was truly Bizarro Land, population one. 

“You too, Joyce. Do you want me to put Buffy back on? No?” Pause. “Okay. I will.” Pause. “Well, I can’t promise anything but I’ll try. ‘Fraid so.” And another pause. “Bye.”

She hurried to feign a deep interest in the contents of the rucksack before he pushed open the door. He didn’t enter, however, as the sun was still up and light flooded most of the room.

“Nice lady, your mum.” He held out the phone to her. “Said to tell you to behave.”

“She did not.” Buffy knew that it was probably exactly what her mom had said, however.

“Did too. ‘Course, she said the same thing to me, so you don’t have to feel singled out.” He turned to head back downstairs and she instinctively got up to follow.

“Since when did you ever behave?” She tossed the box aside and put the phone in her pocket. “So, what else did you talk about?”

“Nothing much.”

“Do you realize how wrong it is for my mom to ask for you when she calls? It feels like I’ve fallen into the Twilight Zone or something.”

“She’s just being nice. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” Their descent was slow, both of them taking their time. Him more so than her, she noted.

“It kinda _is_ a big deal to me. Isn’t this a vampire thing? You know, being all charming so that you get an invite and then killing everyone.”

“Already had an invite to your house,” he reminded her. “’Sides, I wouldn’t kill your mum.”

“No?” That puzzled her.

He sat down by his stuff with some effort. He made no noise, but she saw his jaw tighten and he closed his eyes briefly, making her suspect that he wasn’t recovering nearly as fast as she was.

“No. That was your ex-boyfriend’s style, not mine.”

“Don’t bring Angel into this.” 

“I’m just saying,” he went on, ignoring her warning. “Killing off your friends and family one by one? I don’t have the patience for that crap. I kill Slayers, not Slayer’s mothers. You don’t need to worry about her.”

“As if I’d trust you.” 

“Whatever. You gonna hang out and keep me awake, or can I get some more sleep?”

Happy for the change of topic, she sat down on the bottom step. She’d left the door open behind her, allowing a sliver of light to shine down so that she could see his outline as he lay on the floor. She was surprised to see that someone had donated a sleeping bag. Probably Willow. Then again, he’d been wearing Giles’ pants...

“Spike.” She used her best don’t-fuck-with-me tone. “Be honest. How bad is it?”

Letting out a sigh, he rolled to his side, facing her. “Not much use to you right now, I’m afraid.”

“I was under the impression that vampires healed pretty much at the same rate Slayers do. But you’re not.”

“We usually do.” He didn’t elaborate.

It took a moment before she connected the dots.

“Blood. Willow said you’d been hunting animals.”

“Not much else to feed on out here.” Again he did not say anything more.

“You haven’t been out of our sight since we came here, so I’m guessing it’s been, what, three days?”

He was reduced to non-verbal communication now, nodding his head at her in silence. She stared at him, refusing to continue to drag the answers out one by one. It took a while, but finally he gave in with an irritated noise.

“I’m half-starved and won’t heal properly unless I feed. Is that what you want to hear? It’s pointless talking about it. All the larger animals have left the area. I was planning on sneaking off during the night so your delicate selves wouldn’t be exposed to the harsh reality of living with a vampire, but then we skydived off a cliff to escape a bunch of sodding bears and here we are.”

“You should have said something,” she chided. At least it explained his extreme reluctance to talk, he didn’t want to reveal any weakness. It was an attitude she understood and shared. At the same time, she needed to know because she needed him. Whatever had caused the spirits in the woods to go evil was most likely way worse than anything they’d dealt with so far.

“And what would you have done? Popped by the twenty-four hour butchers down the road?”

“I’ll talk to Giles.” She knew how pointless it sounded but didn’t have anything better to offer. “Maybe I can kill something for you. Get some rest in the meantime.”

He nodded again. “Wake me when they’re gonna do the spell, yeah?”

“Will do.”

_________

 

“Oh dear,” Giles said, after she’d explained Spike’s - and now their - predicament. “That does complicate matters.”

“I was thinking maybe I could try to hunt something for him?” Buffy suggested. “Like a deer or a rabbit or whatever animals live in these woods.”

Across the campfire, Willow winced.

“Have you ever hunted before, Buffy?” Giles asked.

“No, but how hard can it be? I’m the Slayer, right? You’re always telling me I have a natural instinct for this sort of thing.”

“Hunting vampires and demons, yeah, but not wild animals.”

Again, Willow winced. Buffy had to admit that the thought of killing animals that she tended to think of as fluffy and cute was rather unappealing. Especially those that had starred in the Disney movies of her childhood.

“Do you have any other suggestions? It’s that or the rats in the basement, pretty much, and I seriously doubt there are enough of them to do much good.”

“Um.” Willow raised her hand a little, as if she was in class. “Isn’t it also true that vampires need way more blood if it’s animal and not human?”

“Huh?” 

“Quite so,” Giles said. “Humans are their natural prey and substituting animal blood is not ideal.”

“That’s why Angel always ate hospital blood.” Willow’s confidence strengthened now that Giles was backing her up. “Is it eating or drinking? Everyone always says that they eat, but you can’t eat liquid, really…” she trailed off when she saw Buffy’s disgusted look. “Never mind. But I was thinking, we need his help, right?”

Neither she nor Giles were eager to confirm that they were relying on an evil master vampire, but eventually they both grudgingly nodded.

“Well... Don’t freak out or anything, but don’t we have more than enough between the three of us to help him out?” Seeing their faces she spoke faster. “I was just thinking, we could sterilize a knife in the fire and make small cuts and let it drip into a cup or something. No biting or hunting necessary.”

Buffy was about to object strongly when Giles spoke.

“As much as I hate to admit it, that does seem to be the quickest and simplest solution. Though I must say, I am deeply uncomfortable at the idea of my blood being in Spike’s veins.”

Yep, she decided, it was official. She was definitely in Bizarro Land.


	8. Chapter 8

Spike gradually became aware of his surroundings as the peaceful sleep he’d drifted into faded and reality set in again. He frowned and squeezed his eyes shut, wanting badly to go back to sleep where he wouldn’t feel weak and in pain. A stair creaked, and he suppressed a groan. Someone was coming down into the basement. Just what he needed, another bloody visitor.

“Spike?”

The Slayer. He hadn’t expected her back so soon. He couldn’t have slept for long after the phone call from Joyce; it felt more like a nap than anything else. She continued down the stairs despite not getting a reply. He sighed and rolled onto his back with a wince. Pain shot through his limbs, and he inhaled deeply waiting for it to pass. It was then he smelled it.

Spike’s eyes shot open, and he raised his head to see the Slayer approaching with something like a mug in her hand. He hauled himself into a sitting position, the pain no longer as bad, and his gaze zeroed in on the mug. The coppery, appetizing scent of blood drifted from it, and he inhaled again, imagining the flavor and how it would feel running down his throat.

“Easy, vamp-boy. Play nice or else.” Buffy withdrew the cracked, familiar stake from her pocket and held it up in her other hand, making sure he knew she meant business.

He blinked in confusion before he realized he’d started growling and had slipped into game face. He fell silent and spread his hands out at his sides where she could see them. She watched him carefully and approached. Once she was within reach, she offered him the mug and he took it gratefully.

He glanced down at the dark red mixture and licked his lips, wanting nothing more than to gulp it down. He heard movement and glanced up to see Buffy back away a few steps where she then stood, arms folded across her chest, studying him. He dipped his head, took another long sniff of the blood and then downed it quickly.

It wasn’t fresh from the vein, but in that moment it tasted just as good. It had really only been a few days, but still far too long since he’d tasted human blood, and he relished it as he licked at the drops clinging to the edge of the mug. He swiped his finger around the inside as well, gathering up what was left, not wanting to waste anything.

“Wow, you really were hungry, weren’t you?”

Spike paused to look at Buffy. Her head was tilted to one side as she watched him suck the blood off his finger. She seemed more curious than grossed out, but her nose did wrinkle a little bit when he licked the blood from the corners of his mouth and gave a satisfied moan at the taste.

“What do you expect? There’s a reason vampires prefer to feed off humans more than anything else. Gotta say, I wasn’t expecting it though, and do I detect Slayer blood in the mix?” He dropped the fangs and ridges and grinned at her. “How sweet.”

“Shut up. We took a vote and decided it was better for all of us if you healed faster. You won’t be much use otherwise.”

Spike scowled at that but didn’t interrupt while she continued to justify giving him blood, as if he cared what her reasons were.

“Sharing our blood is better than allowing you to snack off just one of us, and there’s no way in hell you’re biting anyone. That should be enough to get you back on your feet, since I’ve been assured that Slayer blood does wonders for healing vampires.”

“That’s not all it does.” He relished the confused expression his statement brought to her face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing you’d want to know.” He smirked. “So, I’m guessing your friends have that spell set up?” he added, before she could interrupt and press the issue. He knew how she’d take it if he told her what other effects her blood had, and he’d no interest in starting that row just now. Not when he was feeling so much better.

He gave her his most innocent expression, batting his eyelashes expectantly. Buffy flexed her fist and weighed the stake in her hand to show her annoyance before rolling her eyes and turning her back.

“Whatever. Yeah, they’re pretty much ready. As soon as you’re up for it, you can head on out and come join us. We’ll be down near the lake where we summoned the water spirit. Try not to take too long, okay?”

And with that, she trotted back up the stairs. The slight limp she’d sported from her leg was almost gone, he noticed. Slayer healing abilities were definitely a bonus, but a sample of her blood was good enough for him. Already he was feeling much stronger, endorphins flooding his system as his body absorbed the blood.

“Oh, I’m up for it,” he said aloud to himself. “Ta, pet. You gave me just the boost I needed.”

He felt around for his smokes, frowned when he came up with an empty packet and sought out his duffel bag for a fresh one. Sticking the cigarette between his lips and flicking on his lighter, he lit up and smiled as he exhaled a stream of blue-grey smoke and watched it rise into the dank smelling air of the basement.

“Right then, time to get to work.”

____________

 

“So, based on the information you and Spike gave us about your four legged friend, Willow and I have done some research into spirit guides and ways of establishing a deeper connection with one such spirit.”

Buffy nodded as Giles arranged the herbs and crystals Willow had brought him into some form of summoning circle, while Willow set up a few candles and located bags of various brightly colored powders they’d be using.

“Spirit guides normally appear where there’s a need. To reveal fears and encourage those they seek to face them or, as the name strongly implies, to guide one on a path of discovery or enlightenment.”

“Well, it certainly guided us back here when we got lost, but you think, what, that it’s here to show us something?” 

“Well yes,” Giles said, sitting back on his heels and pushing his glasses up as he looked at Buffy. “It’s been calling to Spike ever since he arrived, correct?”

Buffy nodded again, silently, and Giles went on.

“Clearly it’s been attempting to communicate something to us. It knows we’re here to try and stop the evil in the area, and there’s a high chance that this wolf spirit knows where to find the source. If we’re lucky, it may also know how to stop it.”

“Okay, so how do we communicate with it? Somehow I don’t think it knows English.”

“That’s the cool part!” Willow drew her friend’s attention and almost beamed with excitement. “The spell we’re doing will hopefully attract the spirit to us, and the person performing the ritual gets to have a sort of out of body experience that will allow them to follow it where it wants to lead us.”

“Yes, it puts the person in a trance like state and allows them to move within the space between worlds—the place these spirits inhabit. The reason you and Spike can’t hope to kill these beings is because they aren’t tangible—they are no longer connected solely to our world.”

“Right.” Buffy didn’t fully understand the plan but was willing to go with it if it brought them closer to stopping those things. “So you’ll be performing the ritual?” she asked Giles.

Buffy didn’t miss Willow’s slight pout as Giles answered in the affirmative. Giles must have noticed it too, because he reached over to place a hand on Willow’s shoulder reassuringly.

“I know you’re eager to be involved in magic, Willow, but I’m afraid this kind of thing is too advanced for you yet. It rarely succeeds and considering the sort of beings we’re dealing with, I really couldn’t live with myself if I put you in such danger. Just because we intend to call on the wolf spirit doesn’t mean it is the one that will answer our call.”

Willow nodded soberly at that, but the insinuation that something worse could be called had Buffy nervous and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she gave her Watcher a questioning look.

“Wait, you mean if this goes wrong, you could end up summoning one of those other things, a werewolf or a were-bear? Because I really don’t want that to happen.”

“I second the Slayer’s hesitation,” Spike said, having wandered over to them at last, dressed in his normal clothing.

Buffy gave him a quick glance and just as quickly turned away when he winked at her and patted his stomach. Pig.

“No bears,” Spike added to Giles.

“There’s no need for alarm.” Giles turned back to the circle and paused. “You should be perfectly safe. If something else comes we’ll just break the summoning circle and Willow will end the spell, pulling me out of the trance.”

“How do we know if it goes wrong and we need to pull you out?” Buffy asked, still not liking the plan. “If you’re in between worlds your body is still here right? So will we see two of you or—”

“No, no. But—you will most likely know if it goes wrong. I’m more concerned with what should happen in my absence if we do make contact with the wolf.”

“Huh?” Buffy asked eloquently.

“Let me guess, some nasties show up and try to stop us from interfering?” Spike stared into the woods as he spoke, but his relaxed pose gave Buffy some relief. At least they weren’t under attack yet, even if Giles had suggested they might be soon.

Willow glanced down, and Giles removed his glasses to give them a polish. Buffy looked from Spike to Willow to Giles and shook her head. “But they don’t leave the Circle right? You said they don’t go outside the Circle.” She pointed an accusatory finger at Spike and glared at him.

The vampire held both hands up in surrender and met her gaze seriously. “Hey, easy, Princess. I didn’t lie, but you remember your little adventure in the bathroom. Their power is growing, and they’re using it to move in on us quick. They’ve been advancing slowly, but the more we aggravate them the faster they’re going to push their boundary outward in an effort to get at us. If they can affect things inside the cabin then they could show up here as soon as they sense the spell, yeah?” He directed his question at Giles who sighed reluctantly.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. That’s why I wanted us to move down to the lake. The further we are from the cabin the safer we’ll be, and there’s a chance the Manitou can offer some protection against them. She may be weakening as the land is drained and corrupted, but as long as the source doesn’t touch the lake she should be able to fend off the affected spirits.”

“So our job is to act as back-up protection in case they attack,” Buffy said, indicating herself and Spike.

Spike huffed and turned his attention to the trees behind the cabin. “Bloody brilliant. Can’t wait to see _them_ again.”

“Yes, well.” Giles rubbed his hands together while Willow held up a raven’s feather for his inspection. “Shall we get started then?”

“Stage is all yours.” Buffy gestured at the spell circle on the ground. 

Spike retreated a little, choosing to stand on a medium sized rock nearby that would give him a good overview. It made him easier to spot, too, of course, but he didn’t appear to be concerned by that. She noted that he’d shifted into game face again. The better to see you with, she thought.

He had the right idea, though, and she quickly followed suit. Her chosen spot was on the opposite side, half-hidden to anyone approaching from the woods by a couple of bushes. One flank each. Her friends in the middle, like bait in a trap. Except this was one trap she hoped wouldn’t catch anything.

The soft murmur of Willow’s chanting filled the air around her. Giles sat down, cross-legged, in the center of the circle. She watched as Willow slowly walked around, waving what looked like a bundle of herbs back and forth. She was sure it had some deep and meaningful purpose, but it all seemed pretty crazy to her.

Time passed. Willow was still chanting and waving, Giles still sat like a statue. The full moon illuminated their skin in the dark, making it shine ghostly white and also making them easy to spot for anyone watching. She hoped the spirits wouldn’t show. She wondered if she’d be able to tell when Giles ‘left’ his body or not, wishing she’d asked about that, when suddenly there was a shift in the cool night air. It took her a few seconds to figure out exactly what it was she’d sensed – the temperature had dropped.

Moments later, the now familiar, mournful howl sounded. Close, this time. Very close. She looked in the direction it had come from in vain; it was too dark to see much. Unless you were a vampire, apparently; Spike was staring intently at something. 

Something that moved towards them.

It really wasn’t very fair. Why had no one thought to give the Slayer night vision like her mortal enemy had? She pouted and waited for whatever it was – the wolf, she hoped, otherwise Spike surely would have said something – to move close enough to be seen. 

In the background, the chanting intensified.

__________

 

Spike watched as the wolf cautiously approached them. He hadn’t seen it all that clearly when it had guided Buffy to safety, and he’d been too busy trying not to pass out to think of smelling the air. He did now and knew instantly that the wolf was very male and very old. 

It made sense, he supposed. It had been a long time since Native Americans had lived in these parts, and the wolf spirit or whatever it was had likely been around for some time already by then. Perhaps it was another Manitou. From the little he knew, there could be Manitous for pretty much anything: plants, trees, lakes, _animals_.

The wolf came to a stop near the spell circle. In front of the Watcher, something began to take form in the air. At first it looked disturbingly like dust, swirling and shapeless, but it soon solidified into another wolf. This one was smaller and ghostly, glowing with an eerie bluish light that reminded him of the spirits in the woods. Unlike the first wolf, this one carried no scent.

Both wolves howled. He resisted the urge to cover his ears, the sound reverberating in his skull when they were this close. Happily, they left it at just the one howl.

The ghost wolf trotted forward and touched noses with the spirit wolf, then they set off together at a sprint. Within seconds, they had disappeared from view. He let out an unneeded breath and turned to look at the Slayer. She was staring back at him, a slightly puzzled look on her face. He shrugged in reply.

Nothing to do but wait, then. He reached into his jeans pocket and fished out his cigarettes. He hated waiting.

___________

 

The feeling was truly incredible. Giles felt weightless, full of energy and, strangely, alive. He was sprinting after the wolf spirit faster than he could ever hope to travel as a human; bounding across the clearing and up into the woods with the barest effort. He could hardly feel the ground beneath him as he traversed the forest floor, the wolf spirit ahead of him not making a single sound.

Buffy had told Giles that the wolf spirit had waited patiently for her and Spike, stopping every few paces to check that they were still following and urging them forward with barks and whines. Not the case this time. The wolf flew ahead of him, not turning or pausing once on its ascent up the hills and through the trees. Giles had no trouble keeping up, although he seemed unable to draw closer to the wolf, staying the same distance behind no matter how much he pushed himself to go faster.

It took them mere minutes to reach the perimeter of the Dead Circle, a place it had taken Spike and Buffy an hour to reach. Giles hoped that was due to the spell and being in wolf form, and not because the darkness had extended this close already. It was probably a combination of both.

The wolf stopped at the edge, and Giles came to a halt beside it. The animal stared at the rotting ground intently. It slowly turned to Giles and whined, then dipped its head to the dark stains, its nose hovering just above the earth. Giles copied its movement, ducking his head low to the ground to allow the scent of the soil to permeate his senses.

He felt sick to his stomach at the first whiff of the dead land. It felt as though his head was pounding, and somewhere in the distance he heard screams. At first he panicked, believing the camp was being attacked, and that the screams were those of Willow and Buffy. Seconds later, he realized that wasn’t the case. These screams were those of the men, women and children who’d died years ago. They were the screams of old souls being tormented even now, unable to seek peace.

The very earth in which they had been laid to rest had become corrupted.

Giles raised his head, pulling away from the sensations. The old wolf watched him carefully, waiting. When Giles felt well enough to move forward again he bowed his head to his guide. The wolf set one paw inside the Circle, and a shudder ran through it. It whined, and its eyes closed. Giles backed away a step but paused when the wolf seemed to regain control and turned its head, searching for him.

The expressive eyes beckoned him forward, and Giles pushed away his trepidation and followed the wolf. He stepped inside the Circle, and once more screams seemed to echo through the woods. They were easier to block out now that he was expecting them. He did however, notice that the air seemed thicker here, and something indescribable began to claw at him on the inside. Shaking the feeling away as best he could, Giles focused again on his guide who led him forward, deeper into the decaying land and hopefully, closer to the knowledge they would need to prevent the evil from spreading any further.

They were going at a slower pace now, he noticed. The wolf was being more cautious, wary of which paths they took, sometimes pausing to sniff the air or stare ahead into the surrounding trees and scrub before turning and heading in a different direction. Giles was thankful that the wolf appeared to be able to sense the other spirits long before they encountered any of their foes. They shouldn’t be able to harm him too badly since he wasn’t in his physical body, but that was still an area of the spell that was unclear. He would rather not test the theory.

The closer they got to whatever the wolf wanted to show him, the slower their pace. Giles felt that strange headache-y sensation begin to grow, and he hoped they didn’t have too much farther to go. He eyed the wolf in front of him cautiously. His guide was visibly suffering. Every few paces, a shudder would run through the wolf as though it were in pain, and its head would bow low to the ground before it forced itself onwards purposefully.

By the time they came to a complete stop, his guide was suffering full on tremors. Giles looked on concerned as the wolf fell to the ground, shivering. It whined and Giles drew closer, knowing the spirit was in pain. Giles dipped his head and nudged the wolf spirit’s muzzle gently. Slowly, it opened its shining eyes and stared at him.

Giles stepped back and the spirit raised its head, struggling to do so. It turned to point its muzzle to the left and let out a long, keening howl, before dropping to the floor again, exhausted. Giles looked in the direction the wolf had indicated and saw a cave set deep into the face of a steep cliff.

He glanced at the wolf as it lay shuddering on the ground and then took a closer look at the cave. It was dark and damp inside. The stones were wet and dead moss clung to the walls and ground surrounding the mouth of the cave. He couldn’t see very far inward, but it seemed to lead downwards before turning in on itself, a tunnel branching off the main chamber inside.

Giles debated entering the cave when a snarl behind him had him spinning to locate the source. He caught sight of several misty shapes in the trees. Corrupted spirits. Giles and the wolf were surrounded. Indeed, the only way out seemed to be the cave. They drew closer and Giles turned to the wolf, wondering whether the animal could make it inside or not, and if they should even dare enter. It may well be that the spirits were herding them in there.

The wolf had other ideas. Its hackles rose and a fierce growl tumbled from its snarling lips. Sharp, lethal fangs warned their attackers away as it stood erect. Its claws scraped at the dirt beneath its splayed feet as it continued to snarl and snap its jaws at the approaching spirits.

The display did little to help however, as the misty forms transformed before his eyes into predatory animals of various shapes and sizes. A mountain lion spirit pounced at Giles, and the wolf sprang to meet it. It knocked the large cat aside and spun to face the rest.

Just then, there was a shriek that seemed to reverberate through the woods. The sound was like none Giles had ever heard before. The pressure that had been steadily growing behind his eyes erupted into a throbbing headache, and Giles thought his skull would split wide open. The ground felt as though it was shaking, and the spirits around them seemed to waver and vanish in the air like smoke. 

What little air remained in the Circle seemed to be sucked away all at once, pulled back into the cave. Giles swore he could see slimy, pulsating shapes just inside the gaping hole in the cliff face. Shapes that wanted to grab hold of him and the wolf and seep into their souls. 

The wolf. 

Giles turned to his guide to be met with a pair of dark, blank eyes that stared right through him.

Hackles raised and teeth bared, the wolf snarled at Giles and drew itself up into a frighteningly large shape. Patches of fur began to fall away from its hide and cuts appeared on its body, oozing blood. It gave one last howl that turned into a heartbreaking yelp of pain before foam appeared at its mouth, and it leapt at Giles, intending to tear him to shreds.

He fell sideways onto dew soaked grass and sucked in sweet, refreshing air like a man on the verge of smothering. He gasped and choked before pulling himself up to his hands and knees. Terrified, he looked around at the three figures circling him. Relief surged through him when he realized he was back at the camp. He felt a hand on his back as someone encouraged him to breathe.

“Giles? Giles, what happened? Are you okay?”

Unable to answer, Giles stared at the ground, his hands digging into the soil so hard his knuckles were white. The hand at his back began to rub soothingly up and down. Giles felt his stomach clench. He leaned forward, head bowed, and retched violently.

___________

 

“That was _so_ not fun,” Willow said, once Giles was tucked safely into a sleeping bag.

“You can say that again,” Buffy replied. She still hadn’t fully recovered from the shock of seeing Giles wake up from the trance.

“Did you hear that howl though?” Spike’s voice was low as he spoke to them. “Sounded like that wolf was being murdered. Lucky you broke the spell when you did, Red, or the Watcher might never have made it back.”

“You guys.” Willow stepped between her and Spike as if seeking their protection. “I’m starting to get scared. More than a little scared. Kind of _a lot_ scared.”

“Me too.” Spike’s unusual display of honesty surprised her and was ill timed.

Willow let out a squeak and looked up at Spike with saucer eyes. “ _You’re_ scared?”

“Not helping!” Buffy shot him a glare to highlight how poor his choice of words was and wrapped her arm around Willow. “It’s gonna be okay, Wills. I’m sure Giles managed to get some information from the wolf, and we can get to work on fixing whatever’s gone wrong here.”

She elbowed Spike in the ribs.

“Ow! Uh, yeah Red, everything’s going to be fine. Slayer here is a hero and you know how those hero types always save the day.”

“What does that make you, then?” Buffy raised an eyebrow at him.

He merely shrugged. “Dashing anti-hero that plays a vital role in assisting the protagonist on her journey, despite his shady past?”

“Come again?”

“It’s a classic trope.”

When she just stared at him blankly, he mumbled a never mind and turned to Willow instead, reaching up to pat her shoulder awkwardly in an attempt to comfort her. 

Well, at least he was trying. 

“You okay?” she asked Willow.

Willow nodded in reply and appeared to compose herself. “Sorry, it’s just…”

“Don’t have to explain, Red. We know.” 

“Do you think Giles will be alright?”

“Thank you for your concern, Willow, I am fine.”

They all turned to find Giles standing there, sleeping bag in hand. He was clearly feeling much better but still looked pale and drawn.

“You find out anything during your little excursion?” Spike asked.

“What happened to the wolf?” Willow’s voice was tainted with worry for the spirit.

“The wolf… didn’t make it I’m afraid,” Giles said, and took off his glasses to polish them. Buffy knew that the action was more a matter of comfort than the glasses actually needing to be cleaned. “It took me to what I believe is the entrance to the place where the source of the corruption lies. It’s underground. The wolf was in pain when we entered the Dead Circle, and it only got worse the closer we came.”

Spike shook his head. “Poor bastard. That mean we have to fight him too, now?”

Giles didn’t reply, but the way he stared down at his glasses, refusing to meet their eyes said all they needed to know.

“I’m not loving our odds here,” Buffy said. Before Willow could have another breakdown she continued, “But it’s a step forward, right? You know where to go.”

“I do believe I’ll be able to lead you to that place, yes.”

“You’re not gonna leave me here by myself, are you?” Willow piped up.

“Course not, Red.” Before Buffy could kick him on the shin, Spike turned to her and said, pointedly, “You’d be a sitting target if we left you behind alone, right Buffy?”

Damn it, she hated when he was right. And what was _with_ using her name? Oh well, two could play that game. “William is right, you have to come with us.”

“Who’s Willi- oh.” Willow looked from one to the other and back again as though watching a ping pong match. 

Spike winked at her. Buffy resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him in reply, he’d probably make some lewd comment. Instead, she rolled her eyes.

Giles cleared his throat. “Shall we get ready for the hike? The place the wolf took me to was quite a distance within the Circle.”

“Hope you brought more weaponry with you, since we lost both the axe and the sword last time,” Spike said.

“Don’t worry about that.” Buffy smiled brightly at him. “I came prepared.”


	9. Chapter 9

Spike had to hand it to the chit, she knew her way around a weapons rack. Underneath sunglasses, tank tops and a bright pink bag with little hearts on it that smelled of powder and fruity lip gloss, there was a whole arsenal of pointy, stabby things.

It occurred to him that in another world, where she wasn’t the Slayer and he wasn’t a vampire, they might have been friends. It was a strange thought, but not an altogether unpleasant one. He reached down to pick up a silver dagger with an ornate hilt. 

“Like this.” He gave it a practice whirl. “Not sure if it’s big enough for our beastie, though.”

“You know what they say.” Buffy smiled. “It’s not the size that matters but what you do with it.”

Willow tried to stifle a giggle by putting her hand over her mouth.

“You would say that,” he replied, deadpan. “Considering your ex.” 

Willow bit down on her fingers but he could see the mirth dancing in her eyes. Didn’t seem like the witch had liked Angel much. Smart girl. Between that and finding out she was dating a werewolf, he was starting to actually like her. She would have made a decent vampire, he thought.

“Excuse me?” Buffy pulled him back to reality with her voice. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He raised an eyebrow at her and gave her his best suggestive smirk. “You’ll learn, pet. If you’re lucky. Oh but wait, you should already know _exactly_ what I mean. Not as up close and personal, but I’m sure you had a pretty good feel. Enough to compare at least.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Buffy spoke through gritted teeth, her warning clear.

Spike stuck his tongue in his cheek and wiggled his eyebrows. The Slayer looked about ready to deck him. Red seemed more worried than amused by this point.

“Whatever, Slayer. You hold onto your illusions, but we both know better.” He smirked at her again for good measure.

“You’re a disgusting pig.”

Spike bit his lip to rein in another provocation (it was just too easy and too entertaining) before reaching into her bag to see what else she had hidden away in there. Buffy almost dropped the crossbow she’d been examining when he snatched his hand back and yelped, shaking it furiously and letting loose a stream of curses. 

Willow gaped at him open-mouthed while Buffy appeared somewhat dazed; they both probably learned a variety of new, creative words to use the next time they got really pissed off.

“Was it really necessary to bring a cross?” He glared at Buffy.

Realizing what had happened, she burst out laughing. Needless to say, he was not amused.

“I think I’m going to go help Giles,” Willow squeaked and made a quick escape.

“Think it’s funny do you?” Spike asked Buffy, his tone threatening.

Buffy continued to laugh as she tossed aside the crossbow and reached for her bag. “Absolutely.” It was almost empty now apart from the cross, some bottles of holy water and one very sharp double sided axe. “Ooh.”

She barely had time to examine the weapon before he plucked it from her hands.

“ _Mine_. Thanks, Slayer.”

“Hey!”

“Considering I now have a cross shaped wound on my hand thanks to you...” He held up his red and blistered palm. “I’m keeping this. Besides, you had the axe last time.”

“It was your own fault for going through my stuff. Give it back.”

“Nuh-uh. And who’s lecturing who on going through people’s things?”

“Considering you kicked up such a stink about it, you should have known better then, shouldn’t you?”

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, children, but might we get on with sorting out our equipment? We do need to get there before sunrise,” Giles said.

Buffy had her hands on her hips, and had been leaning dangerously close to Spike, while he had marched into her personal space, axe held at his side while he glowered down at her. Giles waited for them to acknowledge his intervention, and once they’d broken eye contact with each other, adjusted his glasses and went back to what he’d been doing; sorting through the herbs and powders he and Willow had brought.

Spike looked down at his palm and grimaced. Bitch.

_________

 

Buffy gave Spike a parting glare before walking over to her Watcher. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed Spike moving closer to Willow. As long as he behaved himself and didn’t freak her best friend out any more than he already had, she was fine with that.

“So, Giles, any idea what we’re up against? Any clue about how to fight it would be good.”

Giles was squatting down next to his rucksack, placing items inside with care. At Buffy’s question he rubbed his temple, and his shoulders slumped.

“I didn’t get a clear look at what might be hiding in the cave, unfortunately. And the wolf was affected too quickly to reveal any more to me than the cave’s location.”

“Oh.”

Buffy went quiet. Giles was still upset after his recent spirit walk and Buffy was unsure how to approach the subject without making things worse.

“There is one thing,” he said then, softly.

Buffy listened carefully, waiting for him to continue. Giles sighed.

“When I felt it—the evil… when I saw the way it corrupted the wolf spirit—it was such powerful dark energy. It got inside and tried to take over everything—from the heart and soul outwards. We have to put an end to it, because it won’t ever stop if we don’t. It will just keep spreading and gaining more and more power—more and more energy.”

Giles turned to face Buffy, giving her one of those looks she hated. The one that said ‘the apocalypse is nigh’. She was getting far too familiar with that look.

“This thing, whatever it is… I believe it can be weakened. That’s why I’ve instructed Willow to pack more materials like these with a few other herbs.” He gestured at the bag. “In case weaponry fails, we will have magic. At the very least we have salt, useful against many demons; your holy water, though I’m not sure how effective it will be; and this.”

Giles held up a bottle of what looked like more holy water to Buffy. She took the bottle and raised an eyebrow at Giles.

“Water from the lake,” he explained. “The lake spirit has power still. It won’t be much but it may come in useful.”

“I see. Giles, this is great, except, the wolf spirit and the lake spirit can both be corrupted by this thing, and they seemed pretty strong with the magic. Are you sure this will work?”

“Not entirely, no. But the wolf spirit fought for quite a while before succumbing, and the Manitou had enough strength to hold the other spirits at bay. It probably won’t kill whatever’s causing all this, but it could weaken it enough for you to strike the final blow. Remember to bring something made of silver or iron. Some demons are vulnerable to those metals.”

Buffy nodded. Glancing over her shoulder at Spike who seemed to be pestering Willow as she packed, she shrugged and smiled down at Giles.

“Well, Spike’s taken a fancy to my axe, but I’ve got an iron mace he can use as well, and I’m pretty sure I have an iron sword for myself. I have a nice silver dagger too. Say,” she said, a thought dawning on her, “you think we can make Spike the pack mule this time? Seems only fair since we’re trading weapons.”

Giles seemed a bit bemused but smiled back at Buffy when she grinned and whirled around to inform Spike of the good news. “After all, he did bring more suitable footwear.”

_________

 

“What’s that?” Spike asked, pointing at a bundle of something that might have been a plant once.

“This? It’s winderwort root.” Willow looked up at him briefly as she packed her rucksack.

“Never heard of it. What’s it good for?”

She looked up at him again. “It’s used mostly in scrying spells.”

“Huh.” He waited until she’d gone back to packing, then held up a plastic bag filled with little green leaves. “What about this one?” 

“Oh, those are-“ She cut herself off and frowned up at him. “Wait a second, are you trying to annoy me on purpose?”

Flashing her a grin, he didn’t even bother to feign innocence. It had taken about a dozen questions before she’d caught on, and he’d already become bored with it. “Maybe.”

Willow shook her head, but she was hiding a small smile.

“Spike.”

He spun around to face the Slayer who had come over to them, carrying another rucksack.

“Guess what,” she said brightly, grinning. “You get to carry the heavy stuff.”

“I’m not your sodding sherpa.” He made a face. “’Sides, I’m still recovering from saving your life and all.”

“Nice try, bleach boy, but that debt was paid back. In blood. So suck it up,” she wiggled her eyebrows to underline her pun, “and put this on.”

She dropped the rucksack in front of him and he could tell from the thud it made (with an added clank from something metal shifting within) that it was heavy, even to someone with vampiric strength. To her as well; she’d needed both hands to lift it.

Not one to let an opportunity to irritate her pass by, he grabbed the rucksack and, prepared for the weight, slung it up on his shoulder seemingly with no effort. He was satisfied to see a pout on her face as she turned to talk to the witch. 

The bugger _was_ heavy, though. He was not looking forward to the long trek ahead of them.

He sat down and had a quick smoke while the humans scrambled around and got the last of their shit together. In one hand, the Slayer was carrying the silver dagger he’d admired earlier, and in the other, another shortsword. The Watcher had opted for a small axe and the witch had another dagger.

“All set?” he asked.

“Ready as we’ll ever be!” Buffy smiled and handed him an iron mace. He wondered whether she actually thought he might need it or if she just wanted to weigh him down a little more. “Whatever it is, it’s going _down_.”

He turned to the other two. “She always this excited about imminent death?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Willow said.

He chuckled, ignoring Buffy’s eyeroll and fell in line behind the Watcher and the witch. The Slayer had insisted on him bringing up the rear due to his enhanced hearing, so that nothing could surprise them from behind again.

The journey to the Dead Circle was uneventful. He could have sworn it got closer and closer each time he came out here, but kept his mouth shut about it. No need to worry the humans if they hadn’t noticed.

They crossed the borderlands and delved into the black, dead landscape without comment. Both the witch and the Watcher’s heartbeats had increased and they were acting skittish, but he didn’t really blame them. It was their first visit, after all. In the flesh at least, he amended, remembering Giles’ ghost trek up here. Spike’d been pretty freaked out himself in the beginning too, not that anyone had been around to witness it.

“Whatever you do,” the Slayer said, breaking the eerie silence. “Don’t stray.”

“Wasn’t planning to,” Willow replied, and a shudder ran through her.

The four of them continued on into the circle and Spike glanced down at the axe and mace in his hands. It was reassuring to have weapons, even though they hadn’t proved all that useful so far. Something about their solidity and weight in his hands gave him comfort regardless.

The Watcher paused every now and again to take in his surroundings and confirm that they were headed in the right direction. How he knew the way to the cave after one visit when he’d been a ghost wolf was beyond Spike, but stranger things had happened so he stayed silent on the matter. More than likely the little trip had been ingrained into the Watcher in some other way than sight alone. 

The further they traveled inside the Circle the more reluctant Spike was to keep going. The atmosphere was more than just unsettling now, something permeated the woods here, and it was clutching at them as they passed through. He could feel his demon shrinking from the nasty vibe. He was getting tired, too. The boost he’d received from the blood earlier was fading much faster than it should have been. Spike didn’t like it one bit.

“Are we there yet?” Buffy’s voice had an edge to it that hadn’t been there earlier.

Giles stopped to face her, mouth open to retort when his expression changed, became softer, and he offered her a small smile.

“Not too much farther. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Buffy replied, her back straightening and her shoulders stiff. “I just—I feel weird is all.”

Spike stared at her back in surprise. Whatever was bugging him must be affecting her too. Giles nodded in understanding and carried on, leaving the others no choice but to follow—not that they could turn back now, anyway.

_________

 

“Slayer.”

Buffy turned at the sound of Spike’s voice. He was staring off to the right, frowning, and she felt a wave of panic rise up before she pushed it away. Willow glanced back and forth between them, concern etching her face, and Buffy gave the girl’s shoulder a quick squeeze of reassurance. Giles was waiting for them ahead, his attention drawn to where Spike’s was focused now as well.

“Something wrong?” she asked, coming to a halt next to the vampire.

“Yeah. We’ve got company.”

Just what she was afraid of. They still hadn’t reached the cave and now they’d have to contend with spirits.

“How far away are they?”

“A little ways off yet, they’re just watching for now, but it won’t take long until they’re on us. We need to move.”

He looked down at her, and she stared into the trees grimly. Giving him one quick nod of agreement she hurried back to Giles.

“We have to pick up the pace.”

Her mentor wasted no time in turning and rushing ahead. Buffy waited for Willow and Spike to catch up, and the three of them started to jog to keep pace with Giles. Several quick turns later and Giles called back that they were almost at the cliff face. Buffy looked up, and through the trees, was able to see a wall of rock covered in dead moss.

Behind them, grunts, growls, and snarls echoed through the forest. The spirits were chasing them, and they’d already manifested into animals.

“Move faster,” Spike shouted from the back, and soon they were running forward.

Buffy ignored the twinges of pain in her body where she still hadn’t fully healed and kept a sharp eye on Willow running beside her. She was staying at her friend’s pace, trying to urge her onwards. Both Giles and Willow were soon panting as they raced forward, and Spike let out a curse as he yelled at them to keep moving.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Willow chanted. The cries of wild animals behind them got louder, accompanied by the sound of branches being snapped in half.

Buffy felt a sudden chill creeping over her, starting from the inside and working its way out. She shivered but forced herself to ignore the cold. She had a memory of Spike pulling her through one of the shifting figures the last time they were here and remembered the biting feeling of being hurled into icy water that had come over her at the time. It really was getting worse if she could already feel their cold. That or they were catching up fast.

“Watcher!” Spike yelled.

“We’re here!” Giles shouted back, bursting through the trees and into a minuscule clearing before the cave.

Buffy and Willow followed seconds later. Buffy turned just in time to see Spike hurl himself forward as a savage bear paw swiped at him, the claws narrowly missing his back. He dived onto the ground and rolled so that he came up facing the tree line and the animal spirits, half kneeling on the ground as the weight of the rucksack dragged him down.

“We’re screwed,” he said, as the four of them pressed close together in front of the cave mouth, eyeing the enraged animals before them.

“We need to get inside the cave.” Buffy raised her sword, poised to attack.

“How? If we so much as move they’ll charge.” Willow cast her eyes around at the enraged looking animals. Buffy saw her friend freeze momentarily as she met the black eyes of a spirit dressed in torn and bloodied clothing, not yet turned into an animal. 

“Thomas!” Her voice was broken with sorrow and regret. 

Oh yeah, the guy she’d tutored and gone on about maybe saving when she and Giles had talked Buffy into going up here. She felt awful for Willow, but he was clearly beyond rescue. 

“They’ll charge anyway. You two get inside. Spike and I will follow. Now!” 

Thomas shifted, and Willow gasped as she was suddenly faced with an aggressive looking brown bear. It was all the motivation she needed to follow orders however, for which Buffy was relieved.

Spike shared a quick look with her as he rose to his feet but said nothing, instead readying his axe. In that moment she knew he had her back. It was odd to think she could trust him in that regard. Still, now wasn’t the time to analyze the helpfulness of her mortal enemy.

“Buffy...” Giles voice came from behind her, and she heard the argument in his voice in that one word alone.

“Now!” she yelled, leaving no room for argument.

If he had any more objections, she did not hear them. Four of the spirits came towards her, another group going for Spike. She couldn’t see how many as they wasted no time in attacking. She used both the dagger and the sword, alternating between them as need be. The larger swings of the sword would cause a temporary retreat of whatever spirit was in front of her, while she shot the dagger to the sides to fend off the rest.

“Iron’s no good!” Spike called.

“Silver doesn’t seem to be of much use either!” she shouted back.

In her four year career as the Slayer, she’d been in plenty of tight spots. Tight spots were commonplace. This was one of those where she truly wondered if she might not make it out alive. Failure wasn’t an option, not when she had her friends behind her, relying on her, but she was pretty sure the spirits wouldn’t care.

There was a cry on her left, followed immediately by a pissed-off growl. Spike. 

To her great surprise, she felt an instinctive need to check on him and make sure he was all right. There was no chance in hell of that, though, as she was kept preoccupied with attacks on three fronts still and barely had time to think.

Moments later he was next to her, still fending off spirits with blood running down from a cut in his side. “Let’s go!” 

“Trying!” She stabbed with the silver dagger at a corrupted wolf and swung the sword through the two large bears in front of her.

“Buffy!” Willow shouted from somewhere behind her. It took a second to register that her voice didn’t sound terrified anymore, but… hopeful?

Strong hands grabbed around her waist and yanked her backwards. “Gah!”

She lost her grip on the sword and it clattered to the ground, but she still had the dagger. She waved it in front of her where the two bears, the wolf and seemingly their entire ferocious family tree were crowding in on her. 

Then, abruptly, they stopped. 

Oh sure, they were still snarling and snapping their teeth at her, but they didn’t come any closer. She was standing at the mouth of the cave, just inside it, and none of the spirits would enter. 

Her jaw dropped in amazement. “What?”

“Salt,” Spike said, right by her ear. It dawned on her that it had to be his hands that had pulled her back, and for some reason they were still around her waist. She looked down to confirm this and noticed instead what he was referring to.

Spread out in a line from one side of the cave entrance to the other was a fine, white powder. It formed a barrier of some sort that the spirits would not cross. She relaxed. Well thank God for that. It would give them the breathing room they needed to figure out what the wolf spirit had wanted to show them inside the cave.

She took a step back, wanting to put a little more distance between herself and the increasingly irate spirits, and bumped against Spike. His hands tightened around her, helping to keep her steady so she wouldn’t fall.

“You okay, Buffy?” His unneeded breath was strangely warm against her ear and the side of her neck. 

He really needed to stop saying her name like that. And he really needed to get his hands off her. And she really needed to not be leaning against him right now, because he was disturbingly comfortable to rest against. Just the right height for her, in fact; if she tilted her head it would fit right onto his shoulder, like puzzle pieces in a two-piece jigsaw.

“Yeah, fine,” she said with some effort, and pushed away from him. She refused to look up and meet his eyes. “What about you? I saw you bleeding.”

“Bit of a scratch, but I’ve had worse.”

Snorting at his obvious glossing over of the truth, she busied herself with pulling up his t-shirt so she could assess the damage.

“Ouch,” Willow said, coming over to them with a wrinkled brow. “Do you want me to try and bandage it up?”

“Nah, better if we press on, I think. It’s already stopped bleeding anyway.”

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, Florence.”

Buffy let go of the black fabric reluctantly. She’d been rendered temporarily speechless at the sight of Spike’s bare stomach, not having expected the ripped muscles she’d found there. Any other time she’d seen him without a shirt, he’d been covered in cuts and bruises. The ‘scratch’ in his side was unfortunately not the first thing she’d focused on this time when she’d pulled his shirt up.

“So what was that freak out back there?” Spike asked Willow. Neither of them appeared to have noticed, thankfully.

“Oh, just-” Willow faltered and swallowed before managing to continue. “Somebody I used to know.” 

“Let’s get the torches out,” Giles interjected. He was holding a half-empty pack of salt in one hand and wiped sweat off his brow with the other. “The cave appears to be quite long.”

“Goodie.” Buffy sighed. “Who wants to bet it’ll also be full of bats or something equally gross?”

“I doubt it.” Spike glanced back at the pissed off spirits behind them. “Everything here is dead. Well,” he amended, giving Buffy a slight smirk, “except for you three of course.”

“Now’s not the time for joking Spike.” She frowned at him before she followed Giles and Willow as they started heading into the tunnel ahead.

“Wasn’t joking.”

No, he wasn’t. Aside from her and the others, anything that would’ve once lived in this cave would be dead, just like everything else inside the Dead Circle. 

She had to pick her steps and was grateful for the sneakers Willow had lent her. She heard Spike’s axe clang against the side of the rock wall once and the sound was amplified by the long tunnel. She turned and saw him wince at the noise, covering one ear with his free hand.

“Be careful.” 

His head shot up, and he gave her an incredulous look. She felt her cheeks threaten to flush when his mouth opened and quickly interrupted so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

“We don’t need to announce our arrival quite so loudly. Element of surprise?”

He snorted and gestured forward irritably. She carried on, satisfied that she’d set the record straight. After all, it’s not like she would concern herself over him.

They continued on, going further into the cave which led them deeper and deeper underground. Buffy began to fidget in anticipation, wondering when they would stumble across whatever it was that had made its home down here. The walls were wet and slimy and little pools accumulated here and there along the path. The constant sound of dripping water was the only noise beyond the sound of their footsteps and panting breaths.

It was getting harder to breathe the further they went, and the walls seemed to close in around them. Buffy wondered if she had become suddenly claustrophobic. Every now and again they’d encounter rock formations that they’d have to squeeze past, and they’d have to remove their bags and rucksacks and try to shove them through the narrow gaps to each other.

Spike made a comment about being lucky he didn’t have to breathe when he had to squeeze through a particularly narrow gap, his belt buckle scraping against the rock as he wriggled through. Giles had a harder job, being the tallest and needing to duck as well as push his way through the tight spaces. At one point, Buffy’d had to help pull him through while the others pushed.

“If it gets any narrower I fear we won’t be able to continue,” Giles said, bending over and gasping for air as they stood in a slightly wider part of the tunnel.

“We have to keep going. It can’t be much farther right?” Buffy looked at Willow and Giles and felt her spirits sink. Both of them were sweating and struggling for air. Even Buffy was finding it strangely hot in the damp cave.

“Slayer’s right,” Spike said, and she glanced at him in surprise as he leaned against the wall. “I can feel it. We’re close.”

Neither Giles nor Willow said anything, but they did straighten up and start walking forward again. Buffy waited for Spike to push off the wall with a sigh and come join her.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, bringing him up short.

He studied her before shrugging as though unfazed. “Just telling the truth. Going back will be even harder unless we stop this thing.”

He wasn’t wrong. Still, he’d supported her and got the others moving. She wasn’t sure how to handle this new side to Spike. At least he hadn’t used her name again. That would be a little too much for her to process right now on top of everything else.

They kept moving and were happy to see that the tunnel stayed as wide as it was currently, at least up to the next turning. Willow stopped for a short breather and Buffy put a hand on her back, worried. Willow waved her onward and stood again, murmuring that she was okay. Buffy hoped they got to the end of this thing soon. Ahead of them, she saw Giles sway to the left as he walked, his flashlight beam waving madly for a moment before he caught himself. Seeing that Spike was next to Willow now, Buffy hurried to join her Watcher.


	10. Chapter 10

It was with great relief that the four of them stumbled into a chamber deep underground, stalactites and stalagmites surrounding the small space like rows of teeth. Despite the more open surroundings, the air was no easier to breathe, and there wasn’t even a single draft. Disappointed, Buffy examined the area.

It didn’t seem like there was anything in here besides more slimy rocks and foul smelling pools of water. She shone her flashlight around at the walls when something colorful caught her eye. Puzzled, she stepped closer to what looked like a smooth rock face, upon which several strange symbols and figures had been painted, the only spot of color they’d seen in a long time.

“What are these?” Buffy asked.

“Exactly what they look like, pet. They’re cave paintings. Just not human ones.”

Buffy had jumped at the sound of Spike’s voice so close to her, having expected Giles to be the one to answer. Instead, Giles was sitting on a rock with Willow crouched next to him while Spike examined the wall over her shoulder.

“Not human? What are they then, demonic?”

“Got it in one.” He reached up to touch the strange symbols while he illuminated them with his flashlight. “Looks like they’re covering a large part of this wall.”

He paused and chewed on his lip for a moment, as though he was struggling with himself. “Can you help me light it up?”

Okay, so she’d been nice to him and now he was nice to her. She could handle this. 

“Of course.”

Behind her, Willow and Giles approached and added their flashlights to hers. Despite there being four of them, the beams of light still didn’t cover the whole thing. Spike muttered a curse and followed along the wall to the far right of it. 

“It starts here. Light up this part first, and I’ll see if I can translate.”

“It’s written backwards?” Buffy asked, confused.

“Not everyone writes left to right, you know. It’s mostly a human thing.”

“Oh.”

They shone their flashlights at the wall following Spike’s directions and he slowly moved along it, mumbling to himself as he went. Once he reached the end on the far left, he darted back to where he’d started.

“Right, think I’ve got it,” he said and cleared his throat. “It talks about a demon that the demons themselves feared. Jaqta be’at na Uil.”

“What?” 

“Sort of a name. It’s kinda hard to translate those, your average olden days demon didn’t go around being called Jack or Henry. It goes on to say he’s ‘the Corrupter of All Things’, though.”

Buffy made a face. Beside her, Willow raised a hand to rub at her temple.

“Headache?” she asked.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s getting pretty bad.”

“Don’t worry, my head’s complaining too. The air in here isn’t exactly fresh. You’ll feel better once we get back outside again.”

No one brought up the fact that the spirits were no doubt still waiting for them at the entrance.

“It’s strange, it’s like I can hear...” Willow trailed off.

“Hear what?” 

“Voices... Voices whispering.”

“I hear them too,” Giles said.

Definitely _not_ a good sign. Buffy couldn’t make out anything except for the noises they themselves made. 

“Can you pick up what they’re saying?” she asked, looking between them anxiously.

“No,” Willow said, while Giles shook his head. 

She wasn’t sure which was worse - being unaware of what the voices were saying or knowing exactly what they wanted with her friends.

“This Corrupter fella was very powerful,” Spike went on, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “He used his powers to place other demons under his will and they would do his bidding. Eventually the other demons were forced to work together and use their magic to imprison him.”

She sighed. “Let me guess. This is his jail cell.”

“’Fraid so. All of this is basically a warning. Abandon hope, all ye who enter here and so on.”

“Great.”

“Is there no helpful information at all?” Giles asked, his voice strained and sounding a bit raw.

“It says some stuff about opposites, but it’s not very clear.”

“Opposites?” 

“Either the opposite or the enemy, it could be either.”

“Well, the enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Buffy said, and had to bite her lip to prevent a smile. How very apt and at the same time, how very disturbing. She and Spike were not friends. They were just temporary allies, that’s all.

He chose to ignore her. “This part is really confusing.” He reached up to touch the symbols again, running his hand along one in particular. “It says that only the enemy, or the opposite, can break through some kind of protection he’s got and harm him.”

“Huh?”

“Pretty much,” he replied.

Willow moaned softly, still rubbing at her head.

“Hang in there, Wills.” She wished she could do something to help her. “But if these other demons didn’t like the Corrupter guy, why didn’t they just kill him? Why stick him down in this cave and paint some cryptic warning on the wall? They knew how to get through his protection and all, so what was stopping them?”

“I don’t know,” Spike admitted, frowning at the painted shapes. “Maybe they couldn’t, for some reason.”

“Could the opposite be referring to—” Giles cut himself off as an involuntary shudder ran through him. “Refer to the opposite of corruption itself?”

“Might be.” Spike turned around. He looked at Giles and Willow, then shot Buffy a worried glance.

“Perhaps—” Giles had to pause as his body shuddered again. “They could not, because the opposite of corruption is purity.”

Before Buffy could say ‘huh?’ again, Willow mumbled something about salt.

“Right, the spirits couldn’t cross the salt line,” Spike said slowly. “And salt is pure… maybe it’ll work against the Corrupter, too?”

Buffy shrugged. “Worth a shot, though I plan to throw everything else I’ve got at it, too.”

Spike dropped his flashlight and came over to her with quick steps, then proceeded to invade her personal space until they were almost cheek to cheek. “Really don’t like what’s happening to them,” he hissed.

“I know,” she whispered back, grabbing onto his shoulder with one hand both to keep him close and to prevent him from getting any closer. “But we can’t turn back now.”

“I don’t think that’s a normal headache. And I can’t hear any whispers.”

She pushed him away without comment, knowing all too well that he was most likely right but unable to do anything about it. If Spike with his vampire enhanced hearing couldn’t pick up any voices then there weren’t any. 

They were inside her friends heads. Whispering things they couldn’t make out. 

But for how long? How long until the whispers became clear? She’d been experiencing increasing pressure in her own head for a while now but figured it must be much worse for Willow and Giles who had no slayer strength to rely on.

If they didn’t hurry, it would get them all in the end.

“Let’s continue.” Buffy’s tone was firm. “We’ve got to be getting close now.”

___________

 

Oh, they were close all right. Buffy could feel the bad energy seeping into her pores as they located another tunnel at the opposite end of the chamber. Giles and Willow were dragging themselves forward, and Buffy threw worried glances at them every few seconds. She felt utterly powerless.

When Giles let out a grunt of pain before waving her away for the second time, Buffy caught Spike’s eye and read the warning in his eyes.

Not seeing any other option, she gave him a stern look and pushed on, ignoring the low growl emanating from the vampire. If she had any choice in the matter she’d send Giles and Willow back, or at least have them stop to rest, but she couldn’t risk it in a place like this. Not to mention that the spirits were waiting for them outside, even if they did somehow manage to make it back.

Luckily, the tunnel was a short one and it opened into a large cavern. There was a short drop at the end of the tunnel, and Buffy hopped down it, landing with a soft thud on the rock beneath. She turned to warn the others to watch their step and help them down.

“I say, this looks rather like the place we’re looking for,” Giles said breathlessly, before bending over to cough.

“Guys, I don’t feel—” Willow broke off mid-sentence to clutch at her head, falling sideways.

Spike caught her and lowered her down to the ground. He pointedly looked up at Buffy. She stared back helplessly before a noise in the cavern caught their attention. It sounded like a gush of air but they knew that was impossible. Giles and Willow moaned in pain while Buffy and Spike stayed silent and still. The faint sound of crumbling stone reached their ears and Spike stood, taking up a ready stance next to Buffy.

“It’s here,” he said, looking grim.

“I know.” Buffy put away her flashlight in favor of having both hands free to use the dagger.

Spike must be feeling the same thing she was. Besides the usual tingles that clued her in to something demonic in the area, something other than Spike that is, Buffy felt something dragging her down. It was like dead weight being added to her body as her strength was slowly sapped away. The chill was back too. It was odd to go from bizarre stifling heat to near freezing cold in an instant and she shivered violently. Behind them, Giles and Willow fell silent. Buffy chanced a glance at them to see them huddled on the ground, unmoving.

“Spike,” she said, panic for her friends rising.

“No time to worry about them now, Slayer. Got work to do.”

“But—”

A piercing shriek tore through the cavern, and both Buffy and Spike staggered back at the sudden noise. Just as they regained balance a skittering sound bounced around the cave walls before the place fell silent again.

“Do you see anything?” Her teeth chattered with the cold and her eyes darted around the dimly lit area. Spike vamped next to her before shaking his head.

“No, nothing.”

He tossed a somewhat concerned look at her shivering body, set his jaw and scanned the area again.

“Where is it?” She hated their serious disadvantage down here.

You could hear a pin drop in the quiet that followed Buffy’s question. Her breath came in short gasps, and she tried to clear her mind and use only her senses to locate the creature. Whatever it was, it was no spirit. It felt like a demon, something she could fight if it would only reveal itself.

Buffy closed her eyes to concentrate and calmed her body as much as possible, fighting to ignore the cold. She heard Spike’s boot scrape against the floor as he half turned. She focused harder. There! A wheezing noise right—

“Buffy!”

Spike’s warning came too late as she turned her head and opened her eyes, only to see the demon land next to her from where it had been hidden in the shadows of the ceiling. She barely had time to register the gaping holes where its eyes should be before a gnarled hand with three inch claws slashed at her and sent her flying through the air.

She landed in a heap on the ground and cried out as blood started to pour from the gashes in her side where its claws had caught her. She barely noticed the warmth of it over the glacial stab she’d felt when the demon had touched her skin. She raised her head and saw Spike blocking the demon’s attacks with the axe and mace, but being forced back to where it would have him cornered.

Buffy stood and glanced down at her torn clothes and the claw marks before she shoved the pain away and let her Slayer side take over. She had a better look at the demon now. It was all taut blue-grey skin and spines. It had a large mouth full of rows of nasty yellow fangs, two pointed ears like those of a bat, and was somewhat humanoid, standing on two feet and using its arms and teeth to attack.

Buffy ran over to assist Spike and slashed at the thing’s back just as it forced the vampire to trip and fall, his mace sent flying from his grasp. At least he still had the axe. The demon cried out and whirled to her, snapping its jaws in her face. She swiped the dagger at its head but missed as it hissed and tried to claw at her again. She backed away, drawing it away from Spike and into a more open area of the cavern where they’d have room to move.

The worst thing about it Buffy decided, was those eyes; great empty chasms, around which the sickly looking skin was wrinkled and dehydrated in appearance. No matter where you tried to look, your gaze was constantly pulled back to those empty sockets, inside which lay nothing. They said eyes were windows to the soul. This thing’s lack of eyes left you feeling empty at the mere sight of a soul’s absence.

“Spike,” she called as the demon advanced.

She took another swipe at the demon with her dagger, slashing its arm and leaving a trail of oozing navy goo in the blade’s wake.

“Ew. Spike!”

She chanced a glance over the demon’s shoulder towards Spike, and her hopes sank. The reason he wasn’t answering her was because he was busy fighting his own opponents; Willow and Giles.

“No,” she cried out when she saw her Watcher and her friend’s faces. She turned to the demon and hacked at it again, this time cutting into its chest. “You’re going to pay for this.”

___________

 

Spike had seen it coming from a mile away. Buffy probably had too, but she was loathe to acknowledge it out loud. Couldn’t really blame her for it, he supposed. They were her friends. Right now though, they were also the enemy.

Giles slashed at him with his axe. Spike dodged it easily, but it left his right side open for Willow. Sharp pain blossomed where the dagger embedded in his upper arm. Thank fuck for being left handed. He took a step back and yanked the dagger out with a grunt, placing it in his free hand. 

Without a weapon to use, the witch threw herself at him fists first. He could have swatted her away easily if it weren’t for the need to fend off Giles as well, who was swinging the sharp little axe around with surprising skill. Either he’d clearly underestimated the watcher in combat or the corruption enhanced his abilities. 

Not having much choice, he tilted his own axe and swung the broad side of it at Giles while using the dagger in his weak hand to keep Willow at bay. He smacked the Watcher’s arm but unfortunately it wasn’t hard enough to knock the axe out of his grip.

Before he could compose himself, they both attacked again. Willow grabbed for his arm and tried to wrestle the dagger back, clawing and biting at his fingers and wrist. It would have been laughable if she’d been herself. As she was not, it actually hurt pretty badly. Her little teeth were cutting deep into his hand and she seemed to have no problems ripping off small chunks of skin and flesh. Giles, on the other hand, appeared intent on decapitation. He danced around Spike, repeatedly swinging the axe towards his head or neck and keeping him fully occupied with blocking, so that he couldn’t shake Willow off.

“Spike!” the Slayer called again.

“Bit busy, love!” He was unable to even turn to check on how her battle was going. If he didn’t get on top of this fight and soon, he’d be minus one hand.

___________

 

Once Buffy had managed to wound the demon, her spirits rose. Her joy was short lived however, as the gash she’d caused quickly stopped oozing and seemed to patch itself up like Slayer healing on speed.

“Hey.” She pouted. “No fair!”

The demon grinned at her, if it could be called a grin. Its mouth widened, at any rate, showing off even more of its razor sharp teeth. The malodorous stench wafting from it was eye-watering; it reminded her of rotten eggs.

“Anyone ever suggest mouthwash?” she quipped, determined to test just how well the creature’s healing ability was. Would it recover from an amputated limb, for example? Or better yet, from losing its head?

“No?” She danced around its claws as it tried to strike her again. “’Cause I’m thinking it might improve your life by a lot. I bet it was your breath that caused everything up above to wither and die.”

She got in another slice with her dagger, but it retaliated lightning quick with another slash of claws. This time it was her shoulder that took the damage and there was a scream of pain. Wait a second, that wasn’t _her_ screaming. That was Willow.

“Spike!” She yelled as loud as she could while she blocked the demon and swung herself out of reach. “What are you doing?!”

“She’s eating my hand!” came the indignant reply. “Might have to kill them.”

“No!” 

Block. Dodge. Swipe at its arm and dodge again. 

“Buffy, they’re not your friends anymore.”

The creature got in another hit, but only barely, one claw scraping against her arm. It wasn’t deep, thankfully. Her limbs felt numb from the lack of heat, both a blessing and a sacrifice. She couldn’t feel pain beyond the cold, but it was harder to keep moving and hold her weapon, and there was always the chance this would end with her catching hypothermia if it lasted much longer.

There were other things to focus on however. Her friends. She refused to think about all the hikers and campers that had suffered the same fate that now befell Willow and Giles. Refused to think about their vacant eyes and blank faces. Instead, she focused on Giles’ theory about purity.

Where were the rucksacks? One was behind her where she’d dropped it, but it was the one with weapons. She needed the other ones. Where had they gone? 

________

 

“I can kill them for you,” Spike offered when Buffy didn’t reply for a while. He had to shout to be sure she heard him over the sound of their separate battles. “You wouldn’t have to do it yourself.”

Chances were slim to none that she’d okay it, of course, but if it came down to him or them he wouldn’t wait for her approval anyway. He’d managed to shake Willow off his hand finally, but she was still as ferocious as ever, snarling at him with blood – his blood – running down her chin. He’d never thought he’d see the day when the little redheaded chit actually frightened him, but here they were. 

Giles had succeeded in getting a hit in with the axe, digging it deep into Spike’s thigh. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that the Watcher had been unable to yank it back out, leaving him weaponless, but at the same time making it very difficult for Spike to move, every single step sending sharp jolts of pain up and down his leg.

“The rucksack!” Buffy shouted.

He had no idea what she meant, having more than enough on his hands right then. Willow came at him again, and he saw no other choice but to reach out and grab her by the neck. She clawed at his arm, hissing and spitting. It didn’t take long before the latter stopped as she began to run out of air.

One down, one to go.

__________

 

“I need the rucksacks!” Buffy was desperately trying not to hear the sputtered, choking noises coming from above. This was not happening.

“Incoming!” There was a thud of something being kicked, then another, louder thud as it landed somewhere to her left. Moments later the other rucksack was kicked over the edge as well.

“Don’t kill them,” she pleaded, knowing all too well that there was nothing she could do if he decided it needed to be done. “ _Please_ , Spike, don’t kill them!”

__________

 

Once Willow was under control, it got considerably easier. After taking care of the rucksacks for the Slayer (he had no idea what she wanted them for, but knew better than to question it), he punched the Watcher in the stomach, and then took a firm hold of his neck while he was winded. Slamming both of them up against the cave wall, he let out a low growl of frustration.

She had begged him to spare their lives. She had actually _begged_. 

He stared at the two faces in front of him, searching for any indication that there was still a remnant of the people they’d been in there. Empty, black eyes stared back at him.

He hung his head and sighed, but eased the pressure off their throats all the same. What a hopeless fool he was. 

_______

 

Deep within Willow’s mind, the corruption searched through her memories. 

There. A weakness. 

It looked around with Willow’s eyes, then with its own, and located what it needed.

On the cave floor behind Buffy, her battered stake lay where it had fallen out of her pocket when the demon had drawn first blood. It stirred, then began to rise.

__________

 

Buffy could see the rucksacks lying on the ground, so close and yet so far. As long as she had the demon to contend with she couldn’t reach them. She dared not think about Spike and the others. It had been a while since she had heard any shouts of pain but there were scuffling sounds and occasional grunts coming from above. If only she had a better weapon.

As luck would have it, she did. A blow from its elbow sent her reeling back and her foot knocked against something hard and pointy. A quick look down revealed the mace Spike had lost. Feeling a burst of joy, Buffy switched her dagger to her left hand and grabbed the handle of the mace, giving it a practice twirl as she faced her opponent. Now she just needed an opening.

Able to fend it off a little better now, Buffy focused on trying to beat the thing’s brain in with her new weapon, but it wasn’t making things easy. It was being more careful not to get caught with a hit from the solid, spiked object by keeping its claws high and lashing out at her with its legs. At one point, it kicked the dagger out of her hand. Buffy managed to strike a blow against its back, sending it crashing to its knees, but had to duck a sudden swipe from its arm as she moved in to take the advantage, staggering back to regain her balance.

The demon seemed distracted momentarily, as though searching for something, and Buffy used the opportunity to dash in front of it and kick at its chest full force. The creature fell backwards, its razor sharp claws coming dangerously close to Buffy’s legs as it lashed out. She wasted no time in twirling the mace, building up momentum and bringing it down against the thing’s skull... if it had one, that was.

There was a loud crack and a large amount of the foul smelling gunk that served as blood for this monster began to pour from the new hole in its head. It gurgled and scratched at the ground, apparently unable to get up or move much, at least for a while. More ooze dripped from the wound and the smell made Buffy want to heave. When it suddenly shrieked and started writhing on the ground more intensely, she dropped the handle of the mace and raced to the rucksacks, sliding down on her knees next them, ignoring the continuous stabs of pain in her freezing limbs. Once she had one open, she tipped it upside down, shaking out the contents.

“Got it!” She held up the half empty bag of salt triumphantly.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Spike called down. 

Buffy shot to her feet and spun only to see her stake hovering in mid air where she’d dropped it. Momentarily stunned, she watched as it turned and pointed upwards. She lifted her head, eyes opening wide once she spotted its target.

“No!”

Buffy had two choices… the demon or Spike. Almost as though in slow motion, she watched the stake line itself up, watched it start to move forward while the demon continued to shriek and scramble against the ground ineffectively. She only had one shot at this.

Buffy ran full tilt towards the demon, ducking low mid sprint to grab the silver dagger she’d dropped earlier. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the stake shoot forward. Refusing to think about it, Buffy concentrated on the demon, clutching the bag of salt in one hand. Skidding to a halt next to the thing’s head, she upended the bag and watched the white powder spill down, landing on the demon’s face and inside its empty eye sockets.

The scream that came from its throat was something that would lodge itself in Buffy’s memory, a sound so unnatural and tortured that she doubted she’d hear the likes of it again. Just as she brought the silver dagger down against the monster’s throat she heard a sharp cry come from behind her. _Spike_.

__________

 

Spike heard the Slayer’s shout but was too busy restraining her squirming pals to check and see what was wrong. When the demon unleashed the mother of all death screams, he felt his grudging respect for the girl skyrocket along with a flood of relief that it was over at last.

Giles and Willow’s struggles eased and he was able to relinquish his hold a little more, allowing them to start to slip towards the ground. The Watcher’s eyes cleared, and he lost consciousness. Spike released him. He turned to inspect Willow when something sharp pierced his back and he cried out in surprise.

He dropped the witch just as her eyes cleared, and she gasped. Spike felt the last of his energy fade and his eyes drift closed. Rest. Yeah, that’s what he needed.


	11. Chapter 11

“What happened?” Buffy ran up the small slope to where she could see Willow kneeling against the wall, one hand pressing against the cold stone for support.

Her friend was sucking in huge gulps of air; air that had begun to circulate at the moment of the demon’s death.

“Oh God, Buffy. It—it was _inside_ me. I could feel it. The anger, the hate—the power. It wanted to drain me until there was nothing left.”

“It’s okay, it’s dead now. What about Giles and—Spike!”

Buffy dropped to her knees next to Willow and stared at the black clad form sprawled across the ground in front of them.

“Oh Buffy, I—I didn’t mean to… It used me, it used me to find a weakness and it made me—is he okay?” Willow was practically hyperventilating.

“Well, he’s not dust so he’s not dead, um, dead-er,” Buffy reasoned and ran her eye over him. She winced when she saw the stake embedded in his back. It had only just missed the heart, and luckily hadn’t gone too deep. They should be able to pull it out easily enough.

“I didn’t—when it let go of me I just—I barely had time. I tried to deflect it, but I couldn’t stop it. Oh—Giles!”

Willow crawled over to the Watcher who seemed to be regaining consciousness, at least for the time being. He struggled to sit up and clutched at his head.

“Willow?”

Buffy was relieved to see that Giles was okay, but she quickly turned her attention back to Spike and the stake protruding from his back. There was no easy way to do this so she grabbed hold, sucked in a breath and pulled. It came out with a sickly sucking sound and blood welled from the wound. He must be nearly drained by now.

“Good Lord!”

Buffy shrugged off her jacket and pressed it against Spike’s back in an attempt to staunch the blood.

“A little help here? We can all pass out in a minute, kay? Just as soon as we make sure we’re all going to live through this.”

Giles and Willow crawled over to Buffy to assist her. None of them turned to look at the body of the demon Buffy had left withering on the ground, its head sitting meters away from its torso, a trail of nasty ooze leaking from the remains.

_________

 

Consciousness returned abruptly. The shock to his system as all his nerve endings woke up at once and announced the pain in capital letters made him let out an involuntary moan. Something touched his forehead and attempted to soothe him.

Voices. Several. He recognized them, but he couldn’t tell what they were saying at first. One word kept repeating. He struggled to wake fully and opened his eyes to the dimly lit cave.

Sorry. That was the word being said over and over. He blinked and focused on the source.

“Red? Did we win?”

“Oh, thank God.” Willow let out a breath as though she’d been holding it. “You’re okay. Yes, Spike, we won. It’s dead.”

“Brilliant,” he replied and tried to sit up. Bad idea. His vision fogged and unconsciousness claimed him once more.

_________

 

“Is he awake?” Buffy asked.

Willow shook her head. “He was for like, a minute? But then he passed out again. Oh God, I feel so awful.”

“Eh.” Buffy shrugged. “He offered to kill you, you nearly killed him. Tit for tat.”

“Yeah, but he’s evil. I don’t have an excuse,” Willow argued half-heartedly before reaching up to pick at her teeth again.

“Did you hurt your mouth?” Giles asked from where he sat, leaning against a stalagmite. 

They’d moved back up to the larger cave after they’d helped Buffy pour their entire stock of holy water as well as the lake water over the remains of the demon. It had sizzled and given off an acrid smoke, reminding them a bit of the way vampires reacted. 

For good measure, Buffy had grabbed the cross that Spike had burnt himself on and planted it deep in the creature’s chest. She was fairly certain it was dead before that though, the drop in temperature vanishing. Things had gone back to normal, and she’d warmed up sufficiently in the now cool, but not overly so, air. Still, they didn’t want to take any chances.

“No,” Willow replied, ducking her head. “I’m just making sure I don’t miss any bits of Spike.”

“Pardon?”

“I sorta, uh, ate his hand.”

“Wait, you _what_?” When she did not reply, Buffy crawled over to Spike’s sleeping form and pulled up the sleeves of his duster. “Oh my God. _You_ did this? Oz didn’t bite you, did he?”

“No! It was the demon in my head, I swear!”

“Relax, just a joke.”

Feeling even worse now, Willow pulled at the shirt she wore under her sweater until it ripped, tearing off strips she proceeded to use to bandage Spike’s mangled wrist and hand. Once she’d finished, she looked up at them with worried eyes. “I think I swallowed some. Does that make me a cannibal?”

“I don’t think it counts if you eat the undead.” Giles wrinkled his brow, as though he wasn’t entirely sure. “Though technically it _is_ human flesh I suppose. Or, rather, it was, once.”

Buffy sighed. “Not helping!” 

__________

 

Spike awoke to voices once more. The pain had not lessened, but it hadn’t increased either. He took that as a good sign.

“There you are.” Buffy’s face came into view above him. “Was wondering if you planned on sleeping the entire day away.”

“Day?” He felt groggy and tried to shake it off.

“Yeah, it’s daytime according to Giles’ watch, though you wouldn’t know it down here. How are you feeling?”

He paused to consider. “Awful.”

“I’m so sorry!” Willow cried out from somewhere on his left.

“Not your fault, Red.”

“No, it is. It really is.” She fumbled with the sleeve of her sweater, tugging it up to reveal a bandage around her forearm which she swiftly removed. There was a decent sized cut underneath, and he vaguely remembered having stabbed her at some point.

She held her arm over his face, eyes large and panicky. “Drink.”

He was about to protest when he thought better of it. Never say no to freely offered blood. If that wasn’t a rule, it ought to be.

“Don’t even think about taking too much,” Buffy muttered under her breath, but she seemed to condone the act itself. He wasn’t going to question _that_ , either.

Fangs descending, he gently pulled Willows arm closer. She let out a small noise when he bit into the flesh of the wound, but that was all. Sweet, sweet (Fresh! Warm! Living!) blood filled his mouth and throat. 

“That’s enough, I think,” Buffy warned after a minute had passed. She looked a little astonished when he immediately let go, pulled his fangs back and let his game face fade. She seemed to shake it off and turned to Willow. “Do you feel better about it, now?”

Willow nodded and pressed the old bandage against the spot where he’d bit.

“What’s all this about?” he asked, curious as to what would make them willing to feed him au natural.

“I sorta, um, kinda staked you.” Willow swallowed, then hurriedly added: “I didn’t mean to!”

Right. That would be the thing that stabbed him in the back earlier. Clearly she’d missed, but it didn’t make Spike feel much better about the experience. That had been way too close. If he’d been smart he would have just offed the pair of them and fought the demon with Buffy, but no—he had to be all noble. Wait, not _noble_. Never that… Merciful, that was it, because the Slayer had begged him to spare them. Spike frowned. That wasn’t much better, was it?

Seeing Willow continue to fidget nervously while Buffy helped put a fresh bandage on her arm, Spike realized he ought to say something to calm her down. If that was even possible.

“You must be a terrible shot then, since I’m still here.”

“I barely had time to change its course. Sorry.” She wrung her hands until Buffy gently slapped at them to remind her to keep still.

“I’ll let it slide—this time.”

Willow seemed placated by that at least, though she was still jittery and stared at him like he might change his mind and lunge at her any second. Oh well, at least she’d stopped apologizing.

“What’s the plan then?” He tried to sit up again against a fresh wave of pain.

Buffy finished with Willow’s arm and, to his surprise, helped him sit up and lean against a rock so he could look around. They were in the chamber with the cave paintings, he realized.

“Well, we need to get out of here, but I don’t think any of us are going to get very far right now. It was a struggle just getting back here, but it was better than staying down in the cavern with that—thing.”

“It’ll take a while, but the blood will help speed up the healing process. Once the worst of the pain fades I’ll be reasonably good to go.”

There was a brief pause in the conversation before Buffy spoke again.

“We bandaged your leg up.”

Spike glanced down and noticed that his jeans had been sliced open on one leg so they could get to the axe wound. He was going to look a right state until he could get a change of clothes. Taking a second look at Willow and Buffy, covered, as they were, in dirt and blood and bandages he shrugged. Least he’d be in good company.

“You lot gonna last?”

“Of course, so you can forget about getting another free meal,” Buffy said quickly. If he wasn’t mistaken there was some hostility in her tone. He stared at her and she blinked, then her shoulders slumped. “Sorry. I guess I’m still not used to you being on our side. We’re fine. We can make it.”

“I’m not _on_ your side.” It was her turn to stare at him, and he paused, mouth open mid tirade. He sighed. “Except for right now when I sort of am,” he amended, using his not half-eaten hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose. “We need to get the hell out of here and soon, before my reputation is completely ruined.”

“What reputation?” Buffy asked, and he scowled.

She smirked at him and rose to her feet. “Well, we should rest for awhile I suppose. We’re gonna need all the energy we have left just to get back to the entrance.”

Spike watched her walk off towards Giles as Willow huddled up in a ball in front of him, picking at her teeth every so often. She glanced over at him and he raised an eyebrow at her. She pulled her fingers away from her mouth and blushed, trying to hide behind her knees. 

______________

 

Going back up felt so much harder than coming down. On the plus side, they now had more air to breathe, less stuff to carry and the feeling of claustrophobia was not so intense. The downside was, they were all completely worn out, bruised, injured, and had to force their way back through the often tight, enclosed spaces of the tunnel, the rock walls rubbing against their wounds and trying to trap them.

“Come on guys,” Buffy called back from the front of the group. “We made it down with the demon’s influence everywhere, we can make it back up.” She faced forward again and marched steadily onwards. “No way am I surviving a battle like that to be done in by a glorified hole in the ground.”

“You do realize that’s a rather ironic statement, considering most of the evil you face on a daily basis comes from the Hellmouth,” Giles said, as he panted his way up behind her. “Which, to all intents and purposes _is_ a large hole in the ground.”

“How far down did this tunnel go again?” Willow sounded beat.

“Much farther,” came Spike’s reply. “Move it, you lot, or we’ll have to wait another day before we can get out of here.”

Buffy grinned. “Spike, if I didn’t know better, I’d almost think you were in a hurry to leave us.”

“I _am_ in a hurry to leave you,” he retorted. “Soon as I get that ring I’m gone, never to lay eyes on any of you ever again, I bloody well hope.”

“Where have I heard that before?” Buffy grunted as she squeezed through another tight gap in the wall and turned to help Giles. “Face it, Spike. You like Sunnydale, and you missed us. Why else would you keep coming back?” Buffy carried on as Giles turned to help Willow, wiping her brow and trying to judge how much further they had left to go.

“You’re barmy if you believe that for even a second, Slayer. I’ve just had really bad luck is all. Once I get that ring everything will be fine. Plus, this isn’t Sunnydale. Really, if you think about it, _you_ came to _me_ this time.”

Buffy grinned wider as she carried on walking. The banter was helping. As long as they kept talking she didn’t have to think about how tired her body was.

“ _You_ showed up at _my_ house!” 

“Might I suggest we do a disinvitation spell when we get back? To prevent any future surprise visits?” Giles said.

“Don’t bother, Watcher. Like I said, soon as I get that ring I’m gone.”

“You just keep telling yourself that, Spike.” Buffy smirked again. Spike growled, and she chuckled. Teasing him was fun.

______________

 

“I’m telling you, wolf boy’s got to be rubbing off on you,” Spike said, hobbling along next to Willow as they walked through the dead forest. “Should’ve seen yourself, pet, hanging on like a rabid Chihuahua with blood running down your face.”

Willow grimaced, but said nothing. She’d already told him how sorry she was five times since they left the cave. 

He nudged her in the ribs with his bandaged hand.

“Speaking of, you probably wanna take him on a trip to the vet when you get back, make sure he didn’t give you rabies. Would explain your sudden blood thirst.”

Willow made a sort of choked noise, halfway between a gasp and a hiccup. 

Nearly.

“Might wanna invest in a good chew-toy, too, now that you’ve got a taste for it. Doubt wolf boy will appreciate waking up in the middle of the night with you nibbling on his leg or something.” He paused for effect. “Or maybe get a muzzle. Could be kinky, you know.”

Success! The witch finally broke down and started to laugh.

“See,” he said, pleased with himself. “Told you it was funny.”

She gave him a tentative smile. “I suppose I should consider it payback for that time with the broken bottle, huh.”

“What broken bottle?” He reached down to run a hand over the deep cut in his thigh. It was itching, which meant it was healing, but he wished it would hurry the fuck up. He’d been limping the whole way, which had caused him and the witch (who considered herself responsible for all his injuries rather than just the hand and the stab wound in his back) to lag behind. 

“You don’t remember?” The tone of her voice told him she was offended.

“Wait a second,” he said, scanning his memories. “That time I was drunk and lovesick?”

“Yeah. You cried on my shoulder and threatened to cut my face off.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry about that, I guess.”

She shot him a skeptical look. “You’re not _really_ sorry, are you?”

“No.” He grinned.

She grinned back. “Thanks for pretending to be?”

“Anytime.”

_______

 

By the time they reached what had been the very distinct edge of the Dead Circle, Buffy insisted on swapping places with Willow. She’d listened in on chunks of their conversation to make sure Spike was behaving and was pleased to find he was. Well, as much as it was possible for Spike _to_ behave.

Everywhere that the black, rotten earth had been, the land was now brightening. It was as though the sun had begun to bleach away the corruption during the day, turning it a grayish color and making it look as if everything was covered in ash. It reminded her a bit of the aftermath of the forest fires that plagued California during hot summers like this one. 

In fact, it was probably what the people in charge would say, if they even bothered to say anything at all. She sighed.

“What’s the matter, pet?” Spike asked beside her.

“Nothing.” She bit her lip. “Just, you know, I save the world, again, and everyone else trudges along, none the wiser.”

He snorted. “All part and parcel of the hero gig, isn’t it? S’why I prefer being evil. Nobody thanks you, but you don’t give a shit anyway.”

She had to smile. “Listen, Spike.”

“Buffy?” 

Somewhere along the way she’d grown accustomed to hearing him say her name; it had stopped interrupting her trains of thought.

“I wanted to tell you that I appreciate what you did for Willow. Talking to her like that, I mean.”

“Was nothing.” He brushed it off with a hand gesture. A hand gesture with his bandaged hand, the sight of which she hadn’t quite been able to erase from her mind yet. There had been tendons and bone and, just, ugh. She’d seen her fair share of necks torn apart by vampire teeth but hadn’t thought that blunt human teeth could do pretty much the same amount of damage if enough effort was put into it.

“She was pretty freaked out.”

He glanced over at her. “What about you?”

“Me? I’m fine,” she said and smiled. “We won, it’s all over and everyone’s alive. That’s an excellent result in my book. Now I get to go home and sleep in my own bed, which is even better.”

It wasn’t a lie. She did feel good about things, about life in general. Even Spike had been pretty tolerable throughout this whole ordeal. Most importantly, it was over. Spike would get his ring, then he’d leave, and she could return to her mom and continue being excited about college. Happy, normal life.

“And I can get my ring from that bint in the lake finally. Go back to Dru, where I belong.”

She decided she was in such a good mood she wasn’t gonna remind him how the so-called love of his life had treated him over the past couple of years. If he wanted to waste his efforts on the crazy vampire, she wasn’t about to stop him.

The spirits appeared to be gone. Nothing moved, and Spike seemed much more relaxed than he had been on their previous visits. That sense of foreboding no longer filled the air. Instead, it was replaced with a more natural silence; at least until they heard the beating of wings and the screech of an owl passing overhead that made all of them, except Spike, jump. He just glanced up, casually, at the passing bird.

“Seems like the regular forest critters aren’t going to waste much time moving back in,” he said, and lead the way forward once Buffy and the others had recovered from the shock. “Not that there’ll be much to hunt out here for a while until the plants grow back.”

“As long as the place has settled down, I’m good. Time to go back home to functioning plumbing and a comfy mattress.” 

“Yes, I think we can all agree that it’s high time we went back to civilized life,” Giles added. “If only to have a rest.”

“After this trip, I doubt I’ll ever complain about regular patrol again,” Buffy said, bringing the others up short. She stopped to look at their skeptical faces. “What?”

“I think I’d like that in writing.” Giles smiled at her.

“We can do the camping in the backyard thing to remind you of the experience, just in case you forget why you said that.” Willow grinned.

Buffy pouted. “No fair. And I really don’t think I’ll be forgetting this little vacation anytime soon.”

“I will,” Spike said, drawing their attention. “At least I intend to. Lots of alcohol. The strong stuff. Drink enough of it and you can erase anything.”

“Uh huh. Because you totally forgot all about being dumped when you showed up in Sunnydale drunk off your ass.”

Spike cocked his head at her with a fixed expression, but after a moment’s pause simply shrugged. “Point.”

“Come on guys. We’re almost there. I’m even looking forward to the car ride home.”

Buffy eagerly started walking forwards again when a bark pulled her up short. Whipping her head to the left, she inhaled sharply at the sight of a large grey wolf standing between the trees, watching them. The others had caught sight of it too and were openly staring.

“Is that...?” Giles asked slowly, voice tinged with hope.

“Looks like the bugger made it after all,” Spike said from over Buffy’s shoulder. “Never been much of a wolf fan, but good for him.” Buffy couldn’t help but glance up at that, raising an eyebrow. Spike met her eyes and shifted from foot to foot. “What?”

Buffy smiled and looked back at the wolf. It dipped its head a fraction, and she couldn’t help but nod back out of respect. She was sort of amazed at herself, bowing to a spirit animal. The wolf shimmered before their eyes and vanished. Whether it faded away or just moved too fast to be seen, Buffy couldn’t tell.

“Wow.” Willow sounded almost breathless.

Buffy grinned at her friend and caught sight of Giles, polishing his glasses and smiling down at them. That wasn’t... a tear in his eye was it? Buffy shook her head. Now things were getting a little too sappy. Especially since even Spike seemed cheered by the wolf’s appearance.

“Come on guys, let’s go home.”

Willow hurried to catch up to her friend and grabbed hold of Buffy’s arm.

“You know, I think Thomas is going to be okay, or, at peace at least. All the spirits will.”

“You know, I think you’re right,” Buffy agreed, linking Willow’s arm with hers.


	12. Chapter 12

They were too tired to talk by the time they made it back to the campsite. They simply walked along in companionable silence. Willow was leading the way with Buffy while Spike and Giles followed close behind. It was the redhead that spotted the clearing first.

“We’re back!” She pointed excitedly.

“Hallelujah!” Buffy felt relief flow through her bones at the sight. She was losing feeling in her feet, and her legs were about ready to give up on her. The view of the clearing however, gave them all a burst of renewed energy, and they picked up the pace, stumbling out of the trees and onto the soft grass with contented sighs.

“Finally.” Giles took off his glasses and wiped his brow.

Willow was breathing heavily after the brief exertion. Buffy grinned at her friend but caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head in time to see Spike disappear inside the cabin.

“That was fast.” 

“I guess he wants to grab his stuff and get the ring so he can leave before sunrise,” Willow said.

“I guess so.” Buffy frowned. Having Spike leave felt... weird. Not _wrong_ , she hurried to assure herself, just... weird. 

Then again it probably wasn’t strange that she felt this way. They’d worked pretty closely together in the past couple of days. Hell, she’d been closer to him physically than she ever thought she’d be, but let’s not go there. Not until she was alone where no one would see her blush. 

“Though you’d think he’d wait a little longer and give himself time to heal now that nothing out here’s going to attack us.” She bent to pick up her cell phone and sighed when she spotted several more missed calls from Xander. They were going to have to sit down and explain everything to him once they were back. She was not looking forward to it.

“If he did stay, we would have to as well,” Giles reminded them.

“Huh?”

“The ring.” Giles stared at Buffy. “We can’t just let him make off with a valuable artifact that could possibly be dangerous, Buffy. Even if it’s harmless we at least need to confirm it and investigate what power it holds.”

“Right.” Buffy’s good mood vanished in an instant. “The truce ends now, huh? If the ring is dangerous we might have to deal with Spike next.”

“I’m afraid so.” Her Watcher looked down at her with a serious expression.

Willow glanced back and forth between Buffy and Giles, anxiety written all over her face. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she said, obviously trying to reassure herself as much as them judging from the hopeful glint in her eyes. “He’s been really good so far—I mean he’s stuck to the truce even though, you know, he’s not entirely good at all… Giles, how bad could the ring be if it’s only supposed to show someone their destiny?”

“Artifacts of myth and legend are rarely harmless, Willow, and considering what Spike was willing to go through to get it, there’s a high chance that it is extremely valuable or powerful.”

“Well, yeah! Okay! But—I just don’t think he’s going to turn on us now, not after everything. He had plenty of opportunities to kill us on this trip, and he didn’t.”

“He had to uphold the truce if he wanted our help,” Buffy said, though she didn’t look at Willow. Instead, she stared at the ground. For the first time she realized she really didn’t want to have to fight Spike… and it wasn’t just because she was tired.

“He didn’t have to save me or Giles,” Willow retorted firmly and made Buffy look up. “He wanted to kill us, and it would have been easier if he had, but he didn’t. Because you asked him not to. He almost _died_ because of it.”

Neither she nor Giles had anything to say to that. Willow gave them both her stern resolve face until Buffy finally smiled.

“You’re probably right, Wills. Either way we should stick around to see him get the ring. If it turns out to be dangerous, and he turns on us then we’ll deal with it when the time comes. If not—we let him take it and go.”

“Buffy—” 

“He’s kept his word and stuck to the truce, Giles. And he’s injured. All he wants is to bring the ring to Drusilla so she’ll take him back. Lord only knows why. Considering the state he’s in—that we’re _all_ in—I doubt he wants a fight.”

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” Giles gave up and turned his eyes skyward.

“Yeah.” Buffy glanced at the cabin again. “I guess we will.”

______________

 

Spike gathered up his belongings quickly. He took the time to sweep his eyes over the dank, miserable basement that had housed him for the past couple of weeks. He’d be happy if he never saw it again. Any of it.

Alright, so the Slayer and her little friends hadn’t been all that bad. He could have done without the stuffy Watcher, but he’d at least had the decency to keep his distance rather than be a pest, and Spike appreciated that. Even so, it was high time to bugger off. 

Get the ring, get back to a populated area, grab a decent meal, and then drive south – that was his to-do list.

When he wandered outside again with his bundle under one arm, they were all huddled together, waiting for him. He stopped to leisurely light a smoke before speaking.

“You lot gonna babysit me, then?”

“Kinda curious to see what the Manitou has to say, actually,” Willow said, ever the diplomat.

He smirked. “Let’s get to it, then.”

Pushing past them, he brought forth his demon to see clearly as he led the way down toward the lake. Behind him he heard them scramble, and soon the little light circles from their flashlights danced along the ground by his feet.

He really shouldn’t be pushing himself with the still-healing wounds in his thigh and back, but he couldn’t help it. The truce was over and the unnatural (but comfortable) camaraderie between him and the girls was coming to an end. Forcing them to jog in order to keep up with him made him feel better about himself.

“Don’t we have to do the spell again?” Buffy asked, once he reached the shore and came to a halt.

“Nah.” He waved his hand dismissively, tossed his barely smoked cigarette down and gave it a quick stamp with his boot. “Reckon she’ll come when I get inside her again.” He turned to give the Slayer his sauciest grin and winked. “Chits usually do.”

He relished in the way her jaw dropped, and her eyes widened in shock before she reined herself in. Her features quickly rearranged themselves to her standard, disapproving glare.

“Pig,” he said, beating her to it. “You’re predictable, love.” 

For good measure, since she was still staring right at him, he licked slowly across his lower lip as he slid his duster off his shoulders, then yanked his boots off. He balled the duster up and tossed it onto a rock before he spun around and started walking into the water.

“You’re so full of yourself, Spike!” 

Not dignifying that with a reply he carried on, soon descending under the water’s surface. He didn’t like the feeling of being underwater much, but at least it prevented him from hearing any further insults she came up with.

Trying to remember where he’d been when the Manitou had appeared to him before, he stopped walking and began to swim, aiming for the center of the lake. If he could avoid stirring up the bottom he wouldn’t blind himself this time, and he might be able to see her better. And the ring, wherever it was.

Eventually, when he determined that he must be smack in the middle, he stopped and let himself sink slowly. The lake spirit was floating just above the lake floor, her shimmery body like a beacon in the dark water.

“You have proven yourself worthy, pale one. I will grant you the ring for your heroism against the darkness.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied mentally, resenting the heroism reference. Evil vampires were not heroic. They might lower themselves to working with the Slayer for an ultimately selfish goal, but heroism did not come into the picture. Not really.

“You are impatient.”

“Places to be, people to see.”

“Very well, what you seek you will find. Here.” She pointed her long, slender arm at an unassuming spot on the lake floor, between an old, gnarled branch and a large, mossy rock. He reached down and fumbled around in the muddy sediments. The water around him grew murky, but he didn’t care. His fingertips touched something cold and hard, like metal. His hand wrapped around it. Circular shaped. This had to be it, the Piniarneq, finally.

________

 

It didn’t take long before Spike resurfaced, somewhere far out in the lake. He swam towards them at a relaxed pace which probably meant he’d received the ring. Buffy’s hands clenched into fists subconsciously inside her jacket pockets, and her brow furrowed. 

He was her enemy again now. 

Her very good looking enemy.

Her very good looking and very _wet_ enemy.

Spike had come close enough to the shore that he could stop swimming and stand, wading up to the water’s edge. His hair was mussed, revealing its natural curly state as it dripped water down his face. Water also ran down his strong arms, and she couldn’t help but remember how they’d felt around her, holding her close. His black t-shirt which had been tight before was now a second skin, clinging to the taut muscles of his chest and stomach, defining every dip and curve.

She was definitely not speechless. Nope. Absolutely not.

“The ring,” Giles said beside her, pointing.

Too late. There was no way to reach him in time. She watched dumbly as Spike slid the ring onto his finger.

He stopped walking and stared down at the ring. Illuminated by moonlight, the dark band was clearly visible - a sharp contrast to his pale skin. Buffy reached for her stake, the one already stained with Spike’s blood, and swallowed hard. Spike was completely absorbed in the ring until he looked up at her. Buffy stopped breathing for a second when she met his eyes.

The normally blue irises shone with a strange, shimmering silver light. In that moment, still standing calf-deep in the water of the lake and with water dripping steadily from his head down, he looked like some mystical spirit himself. She shook her head to remove the thought and watched as his eyes suddenly cleared.

Spike continued to stare ahead stunned, rather like a rabbit caught in the headlights. His mouth dropped open, and he seemed to be struggling to speak. Eventually, a sound, rather like a whimper, emerged from him, and Buffy replaced her stake. Spike wasn’t dangerous, but he did look—absolutely terrified.

“What? Spike, what is it?”

“No.” His voice sounded hoarse. “No.”

“No?” 

“No,” Spike repeated. “No, no, no, no, no. Nope. No.”

Spike splashed his way out of the water and ran for his boots and coat, water cascading down his legs and flying everywhere. Buffy jumped back and held up her hands to fend off the spray as he ran past her, bent and grabbed his boots, shoving his feet into them quickly. He jumped up, grabbed his duffel and tossed it over one shoulder. He paused to pick up his duster as an afterthought.

“Spike what the hell? What’s wrong?” 

“The ring,” Giles said, walking over. “What did it show you?”

Spike turned to face them. He glanced from Giles to Willow to Buffy and froze. She shifted uncomfortably as he gave her that thousand-yard stare again, looking completely horrified.

“God, _what_?”

“No,” he croaked again, it seeming the only word he could manage at this point. “Not happening.” Or maybe not the only word. “It’s a fake. Doesn’t work.”

Buffy and the others looked on in total confusion as Spike yanked the ring he’d worked so hard to obtain off his finger and hurled it to the ground a few feet away.

“No,” he said one more time and shook his head in defiance before rushing off towards the trail that would lead him to the cars.

Mystified, the others watched him go in silence.

“Well.” Giles paused and scratched at his temple. “That was rather, um…”

“Weird,” Willow supplied.

“Yeah.” Buffy pointed her flashlight at the spot where he’d thrown the ring and by some luck, found it sitting in the grass, looking completely innocent and not all that valuable.

She bent down to examine it and carefully picked it up. It looked like rock but was smooth and cool like some sort of metal. To be honest, it was fairly plain and ordinary looking. She was a bit disappointed after all the hype. Buffy stood, and the others walked over to stand next to her.

“Is it—okay?” Willow asked.

“Feels fine to me.” Buffy shrugged.

“I guess you need to be wearing it.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea considering Spike’s earlier display. Shall we gather our things?” Giles cut in.

“How bad could it be? It’s a ring of destiny right? One that shows a person the truth? Spike probably saw the truth about Drusilla and how she obviously doesn’t care about him.”

“All that just because of his girlfriend issues?” Willow sounded skeptical.

Buffy shrugged again. “You know Spike. He gets really intense when it comes to her. He’d do anything for her,” she added, softly, still staring at the ring.

“Right well, I still say we should—” Giles began planning the process of packing and suggested theories for examining the ring when they got home, but Buffy tuned him out.

What harm could there be in testing it? It hadn’t hurt Spike, just showed him something he didn’t like. Fate and destiny weren’t always good, Buffy knew that better than anyone… but prophecies could be changed; they weren’t set in stone. What could the ring have to show her that would be worse than what she’d already been through?

Buffy tilted her head and rolled the band around in her hand before slipping it on her finger.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AUTHOR'S EPILOGUE:**
> 
> First and foremost, since so many of you brought it up in your reviews: yes, Spike saying 'wolf fan' in chapter 11 was intentional. He also said 'in about three hours' in chapter 6. These were intentional cameos of our usernames that we decided to include very early on. We thought it'd be cool and of course we wanted Spike to be the one to say them :)
> 
> And while we're on that note: thank you so very, very much to all the reviewers out there who have followed this story chapter by chapter as we've posted it. Feedback is vital and we truly relish in it. Hearing that you're enjoying what we've created makes us want to create more! We've already had requests for us to meet up again and write a sequel, and yes, we are considering doing so. It'll be a bit more difficult as 3hrs has moved back home to Norway, but we'll see what we can do.
> 
> We considered many different titles before settling on Spirits in the Woods, though most of them were pretty crack!fic, such as "Somebody Put A Tent Stake In Me, Please", "Vampires, Slayers and Bear Spirits (Oh My!)" and "Never Take the Slayer Camping". You see, during the writing process we would copy/paste snippets into the Spuffy chatroom we both hang out in, and we _may_ have successfully convinced them all that the story was entirely crack. That might have something to do with talking at length about a scene in which Spike  & the Scoobies sat around a campfire singing Kumbaya and roasting marshmallows. We were only teasing, of course, but the impression stuck and heavily colored the title brainstorming sessions.
> 
> Anyway, we need to give credit where credit is due. The nonononono-Spike scene is an homage to ChaoticMonki on youtube, a guy called Cry who does Let's Play's of various horror games. He's famous for his "No, no, no, no, no, nope, no!" reactions, of which we are both fans. 
> 
> The title for the fic is also an homage to Cabin in the Woods, which came about after Puddin likened us writing Spirits in just ten days to Joss & co writing Cabin in the Woods in a similar short timespan. Not that we think we have anything on Joss, we just thought the title homage worked really well.
> 
> Other things that should be mentioned are 3's four cats, all of which kept us company while we wrote and who took a great liking to Wolf's laptop. And, last but not least, the reason this whole thing came about in the first place: the bloody bears. As soon as we decided to send them camping, our train of thought went something like this: "Oooh, they could run into bears and Spike would freak out!" "You made a bear!" *in unison* "UNDO IT! UNDO IT!" "Yeah, let's do that."
> 
> We love him, really ;) And we hope you enjoyed the ride, and that the ending wasn't _too_ evil! 
> 
> -3hours & Wolffan200


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